


Dust To Dust

by taibhsemisteire



Series: To Build a Home [3]
Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: I'm terrible at tagging things but there's nothing really to worry about yet, M/M, Reunion time, more characters incoming, rating will also change in future chapters
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-10-30
Updated: 2017-08-01
Packaged: 2018-08-27 23:43:46
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 23,074
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8422237
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/taibhsemisteire/pseuds/taibhsemisteire
Summary: Five years had passed since Jesse had walked away from Blackwatch. Five long years of travelling, following rumour after rumour, but finding nothing. The closer he got to finding Hanzo, the further into the past his Blackwatch days were; until an incident on a hypertrain to Dallas.[Abandoned fic, will not be completed]





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> HELLO FRIENDS.
> 
> This one is gonna be a little longer that the previous two. Funny story: I actually started this series on this work; I decided I needed some backstory first, and so Just To Damn Me and Conversion happened. The rating for this fic will change as I get further into it, and I promise more of Overwatch will appear too!
> 
> As always, thank you all so much for the comments and love.

_"The number you have called is not available. Please try again_ _—_ _"_  

 _Hanzo lowered his phone from his face, hitting the end call button with his thumb and staring at the screen. Jesse had been due to call in an hour ago_ _and he was rarely late. He sighed deeply, staring out at the lake in front of him. It was difficult to be here when it was so silent. He fondly remembered his time_ _here with Jesse—meaningful memories, talking about nothing yet everything at the same time. At least since Jesse_ _went home_ _, he c_ _ould hear his voice_ _on the phone._  

 _With Jesse's radio silence, he wondered how he'd ever managed to come here alone for so long. He didn't have much longer to wait, though. In a few weeks, Jesse would be here with him. He'd bring some_ _mitirashi_ _dango again, and laugh at Jesse making a mess of himself with the sauce. Maybe buy him some quality smokes, too, not like that barely refined tar he seemed to enjoy while on the phone. He picked up his phone and tried Jesse again, huffing when it still didn't even ring._  

 _He didn't start worrying until two hours had passed. O_ _n the third hour of being unable to reach Jesse,_ _Hanzo_ _couldn't sit still any longer, making his way home to find Genji. There was movement in the estate when he got there—too much for this time of night. The place was awake when it shouldn't_ _have been_ _, lights shining through too many windows._ _He bit his lip, wondering how he was going to get back in unnoticed._  

 _Once he'd managed to get inside the walls, he ducked and sprinted his way through the garden toward his own room, but rather than go inside, he simply made his way down the hallway_ _briskly_ _. H_ _anzo_ _stood straight and walked like he knew where he was going in case any staff passed him, only stopping when he reached Genji's door._  

 _"Genji," he called, quietly, but_ _hopefully l_ _o_ _ud enough for Genji to hear it if he was asleep_ _. No answer. "Genji," he hissed, louder, then jumped when the door of his own room slid open._  

 _"I was just about to call you," Genji whispered, rushing down the hallway to meet him. "You have to go see father, he sent me to wake you_ _._ _N_ _obody knows you were gone, don't worry."_  

 _"What?" Hanzo didn't like this. Genji looked worried, and Hanzo hadn't heard him speak in such a hushed, subdued tone since they were in their early teens. "Why? What's going on, why is everyone awake?"_  

 _Genji made a face, obviously unhappy, and stalled, looking around while opening his mouth and closing it, about to speak but changing his mind._  

 _"Genji," Hanzo reached out to grab Genji's forearm, trying to settle him. "What happened?"_  

 _"I think," Genji's eyes flicked from one wall to another, before finally settling on Hanzo. "I think Deadlock got busted."_  

 _Hanzo's breath caught in his throat. "What?"_  

 _"I don't know for sure,_ _but father is gathering information and he wants you_ _—_ _"_  

 _"I haven't been able to get a hold of Jesse tonight," Hanzo said, heart stopping._  

 _Genji looked about as bad as Hanzo felt. "You should go find father."_  

 

 

 

Jesse McCree shut the door of his tiny motel room in a hurry, moving into the room and launching himself onto the bed before even removing his boots. 

He was so tired, and so glad to finally have some rest. The motel wasn't the best, but he wasn't particularly fancy, and residents of these kind of areas were less likely to pass many words with the authorities, and that was impossibly important to him right now. 

The train to Houston had been a disaster and despite finally being comfortable, he didn't think he could rest until he got some answers about it. Talon agents, active in bright daylight, robbing a hypertrain—that Jesse himself happened to be on—full of civilians and using Blackwatch tactics, no less. Maybe Jesse's presence had just been a coincidence; the agent that recognized him seemed pretty surprised, but as for the rest... That wasn't normal Talon activity. He sniffed as he thought about his decision to kick the cargo. It made sense at the time—they would've kept on them if the train still carried whatever the thing was that they wanted, and there was only so long he could hold off an entire Talon squad by himself. The civilians on the train were more important.  

In retrospect, though, he wondered if he could've tried harder. 

He shook his head, sitting up and setting his hat on the bedside dresser.  _You're not about that life anymore,_   _Jesse,_ he reminded himself as he removed his boots. Or he hadn't been, until the events on the train.  

It had been five years since he'd left Blackwatch. Five long years of travelling far and wide yet going nowhere. He wondered if Gabe had ever realized his connection to Hanzo after he left, or if he'd known all along. It wouldn't have surprised him. What  _did_  surprise him was that Gabe hadn't made good on his promise to come after him, and neither had Genji. 

It had been harder than he'd thought to stay away, especially when he watched the news. He still remembered the day he walked into the lobby of his hotel in Phoenix and saw the explosion playing out on screen, the death toll being constantly updated in the corner—Gabriel Reyes and Jack Morrison among them. The hollow ache that had taken residence in his chest since that day announced its continued presence the more he thought about it, and he put it out of his mind quickly, dismissing that train of thought once again.  

Gabe wasn't coming for him, ever. Jesse had followed the Blackwatch way; mourned, and moved on. He just didn't have time to think about it too much, he told himself, no use to dwell on it. He still had a job to do. A job that he'd been doing a spectacular job of failing. 

The only progress he'd made was to confirm that Hanzo was still alive. There were too many sightings being reported on the right grapevines for him  _not_  to be out there somewhere, and any stories of his death were too outlandish to be real. Jesse just kept following the leads; there was nothing else to do, and he wasn't about to give up.  

He could afford a break to look into the incident on the train, though. It didn't sit right with him at all, so he'd done something he didn't think he'd ever do, never mind do before he managed to find Hanzo. 

He'd dug into his back to find his old communicator, did a lot more digging around to find the battery he'd removed, and he'd put it all back together.  

It had taken him ages to turn it on, even longer to decide who to contact. He skimmed over Gabe's name, and others' who were long gone, before settling on Genji. They hadn't spoken in five years, but Genji took the call anyway, and they'd arranged to meet in Dallas without discussing anything in-depth on the line.  

Jesse set his boots on the floor beside the bed and unwound his large serape, putting it away as carefully as he'd placed his hat down. He rushed through undressing down to his briefs and vest, leaving the rest of his clothes wherever they landed before wrapping himself up tight in the blanket and dropping his head heavily on the pillow. 

It had been a weird and emotionally taxing past few days, but he was glad to have a bed. He'd get some sleep, and everything would be better in the morning when he could think properly. He tried not to worry about whether or not Genji was going to take him out in his sleep or something, like he'd promised to long ago if Jesse got in between him and Hanzo. He hadn't found Hanzo yet, though, so that was bound to count for something. 

He drifted off eventually, dreaming of shotguns and yellow ribbons. 

Genji didn't arrive the next day, but Jesse hadn't fully expected him to. He hadn't take a good look at his location when he had the communicator active—he'd been somewhere west of the Great Lakes—and he had warned Jesse that it would take him a day or two to depart for Dallas. The hypertrain would take no time once Genji did set off, but until then, Jesse had some time to kill. 

Jesse didn't like Dallas. It was too big a city for his tastes. It suited him and Genji as a meet-up point because the population was diverse and numerous, but it wasn't the kind of place Jesse would otherwise have spent a few days. He found a decent enough bar near the motel, quiet but not too quiet. He went mostly unnoticed in the corner he'd picked, flicking through his notebook. 

He'd finally started writing in the notebook Hanzo had given him. He'd been carrying it around for twenty years waiting for the right purpose for it, and keeping track of his search for the man seemed like just the one. Five years of destinations, brief scribbles of rumor, but nothing that mentioned Hanzo by name. The fear of filling the book before he found him kept him up some nights, but reading through how far he'd come helped him to clear his head and plan his next step. Everything about it was methodical—he worked best these days with a plan, even if his wanderings seemed aimless to anybody paying attention. 

He got himself some new shirts on his wanderings around the city too, throwing the old ones in the industrial-sized dumpster that served all the motel rooms. He had a cigarette when night fell, watching the smoke rise up above his head, illuminated by cheap lights. That was another thing Jesse didn't like about inner city Dallas—couldn't see the stars. 

He went to bed and aggressively thought about nothing. 

He startled awake to a sharp noise the next morning, heart beating wildly in his chest as he untangled himself from the blankets, searching for the source. He grabbed his phone from the dressed in a clumsy, metal hand, checking the screen—not his phone. He dropped it in the sheets, swinging his legs off the side of the bed and eyeing his bag. The determined beeping was definitely coming from within. Jesse didn't carry electrics, though, except— 

He padded his way over to the bag, bending down and retrieving the communicator from the pocket he'd left it in after contacting Genji. His Overwatch communicator was receiving a transmission for the first time in five years. 

He swallowed as he read the word on the screen, chest going cold.  _Recall._  Winston's ID appeared below it. 

It kept beeping. It wanted him to answer.  

After what felt like a lifetime, Jesse ripped the battery out again and threw it across the room.  

He wasn't sure how ready he was for Genji's inevitable arrival the following day, but there was no point sending him away or running at this stage. It had been a mentally-taxing few days—between the incident on the train, turning on his communicator, and then seeing the recall come in—and Jesse was exhausted from pointedly keeping himself from thinking on it. If he was honest with himself, he'd been doing the same thing for five years. Maybe the sudden reminders had only made it harder. 

Genji arrived at night while Jesse stood outside smoking and watching the sky again. He was as silent as ever; nonexistent one moment, standing under the light beside Jesse the next. 

He didn't speak first, so Jesse simply watched him for a moment. His body had changed—there was more white plating than when Jesse had last seen him. He also wasn't wearing clothes over it anymore.  

"Hey," Jesse offered. 

Genji's stanced relaxed a little, and he shifted from one foot to the other. "Hey yourself. It's been a while." 

Jesse laughed, taking another drag of his cigarette. "Sure has. I was surprised you were here in the US." 

"I was surprised to get your call," Genji turned his head, but Jesse wasn't really sure what he was looking at. "And that you were here, too. I take it you have not found my brother." 

"Right into it, huh?" Jesse took a deep breath. He'd been expecting Hanzo to be mentioned at some point in the conversation. He thought he'd been ready for it. "Take it you haven't, either?" 

Genji seemed to turn his head toward Jesse for a moment, before looking away again. "I didn't look for very long." 

Jesse wasn't sure how to take that. He and Genji had eventually made peace, sure, but he'd never gone back on his promise to pay Hanzo back for what he'd done. They hadn't talked about it much more, either, and Jesse obviously didn't have Hanzo's insight into what happened. He realized he didn't know a lot, really. "You wanna talk about it?" 

Genji shook his head. "Let's go inside and talk about why you called me here first." 

 

 

 

 _A week later, there was still no news on Jesse._  

 _None of their_ _own_ _had made it out of the fight alive_ _,_ _so gathering_ _information_ _had been hard. What was left of Deadlock took two days to get in touch; five had escaped with their lives, and they'd been moving east together, going on radio silence until they felt_ _they'd gotten out of dodge. Hanzo couldn't inquire about Jesse without raising suspicion, and as far as the five left knew, they were the only survivors. Jesse wasn't one of them._  

 _Hanzo kept trying his phone, but there was no answer._  

 _He still went out to the lake at night_ _and_ _Genji joined him each time. They didn't talk_ _often_ _,_ _but they_ _stayed together. When they did talk, Genji_ _attempted_ _to assure_ _Hanzo_ _that Jesse was smart and good at what he did, and chances were he was also getting somewhere safe before announcing himself._  

 _The official press statement of the mission was released two weeks after Hanzo had last heard from him. Among those listed dead were eleven unidentified foreigners; Shimada men. Jesse's name did not appear._  

 _"That means he's alive," Genji pointed out that night, sitting cross legged in the grass beside the lake while Hanzo paced. "It's a good sign, I told you he wasn't stupid enough to get killed."_  

 _"It has been two weeks, though," Hanzo said for the fifteenth time. "The others reached out within days._ _" He couldn't finish the sentence. He went back to pacing._  

 _"Try not to overthink things until we have more news. Father has noticed you haven't been yourself already."_  

 _"I don't care."_  

 _"If you draw more attention to yourself and father finds out about everything, then Jesse won't be safe, wherever he is."_  

 _"How do we even know if he's safe at all?"_  

 _"I'm telling you, he's resourceful. Wherever he is, he's alive."_  

 _Hanzo paused his pacing, taking a deep breath to steady himself. These last two weeks had been hell. Every second he could feel the emotional meltdown waiting to be released, in the back of his mind and the wells of his chest. "If he is alive, then why have I not heard from him? He would not leave it this long, Genji."_  

 _Genji deflated. "I don't know why."_  

 _After another week of digging, their eyes and ears discovered that Overwatch had agents actively monitoring Shimada trade routes, effectively shutting them down. They couldn't afford to lose more men after the mission against Deadlock_ _;_ _their hands were tied. Their father was quietly angry about it all. It was becoming more and more obvious that the target was not Deadlock, but the Shimada group. The elders had reached the conclusion that Deadlock was_ _nothing more_ _than_ _a casualty in the fight that Overwatch couldn't bring directly to their door._  

 _Hanzo feigned illness to stay in his room as he thought it over. If something had happened to Jesse, and it was because of the Shimada group, he would never be able to forgive himself. Would Jesse have made a different conclusion after his mission here, if he hadn't met Hanzo? He wasn't sure. They effectively decided to set the deal in motion so they would have more excuses if their connection was discovered. Hanzo might have gotten Jesse mixed up in whatever trouble he was in the night they first kissed and Hanzo asked him if he would want to see him again._  

 _His father_ _questioned_ _the remnants of Deadlock_ _, asking how Overwatch knew which routes that Deadlock had covered were Shimada ones. Their agents had dismissed the gorge and the other ganglands entirely; they were blocking Shimada routes only. He got no real answer; the more vocal of the survivors, an older man in his forties called Dan, suspected that Overwatch had been watching the gang for a while, but only moved when they confirmed Shimada connections—Deadlock_ _really_ _didn't seem to be the target at all. Overwatch wanted the Shimadas taken down but couldn't take the fight to Hanamura, so they waged it on different turf_ _._  

 _Hanzo thought about running to the lake_ _and further, running and never stopping, when his fears about being the cause were_ _confirmed_ _—at_ _least, u_ _ntil Jesse's name was_ _mentioned. Dan spoke of one of their men who was MIA; Jesse McCree, sharpshooter, young and too smart for his own good._  

 _"He ain't listed among the dead," he'd said. "But looks like he dropped off the face of the earth. If you're_ _thinkin'_ _Overwatch got more info than they rightly should, that's where you should start_ _lookin'_ _. Good luck, though. That kid's evaded a bounty for years, only the good Lord knows where he could be, now."_  

 _The thought had never even crossed Hanzo's mind. Requests were sent out for any knowledge or sightings of Jesse McCree, and Hanzo paced by the lake again, shaking his head to himself._  

 _"It's a possibility," he told Genji, making himself feel sick as he said it._  

 _"No way, not from what I know about him," Genji didn't sit, this time. "I mean, he wouldn't... If he blamed you, if this is about revenge, wouldn't it be a better idea to make sure you knew who was shutting down Shimada trade routes?"_  

 _Hanzo shook his head some more. "I don't know, Genji. I don't—I can't think straight about it. I've been trying so hard_ _for weeks now, but I just don't know."_  

 _"He is invested in it, invested in you, he said so himself," Genji thought aloud. "He wouldn't do this..._ _"_  

 _"I don't know," Hanzo repeated, tired. "All I know is that he has been uncontactable since the raid, mysteriously not counted with the dead or the survivors. Overwatch knowing what they know could be coincidence, if they had been watching Deadlock for a while, but it's... It's possible he blamed us. Overwatch destroyed his home and killed his friends just to get to us."_  

 _"If that was the case, and if he was angry enough to help Overwatch after they ruined everything he knew, as you pointed out, then he definitely would have been angry enough to make sure we knew who was doing it and why."_  

 _"Then if he isn't helping Overwatch, but did survive, where is he? If he did not blame me, he would have reached out by now." Hanzo looked out at the lake, crossing his arms tightly against his chest. "Perhaps he was angry enough with all of it, Overwatch, Deadlock, me,_ _that he decided to cut his losses and move on."_  

 _Genji didn't reply_ _for once._  

 

 

 

"The timing of the recall is too convenient," Genji concluded, after Jesse had finished telling him the story from the train. "Do you think Winston is aware of this kind of movement?" 

"I dunno, but I agree," Jesse rested his elbows on the table they were sitting either side of, rubbing his face with his flesh hand. "It's all way too shifty for my likin'." 

"Let's see what we know," Genji leaned back in his chair. "Talon agents, active in a way they were never brave enough for in the past. You say you believe they were using Blackwatch tactics, and you were recognised. A few days later, Winston initiates an illegal recall." 

"That's pretty much it," Jesse nodded. "Unless there's anything relevant from... from after the explosion that I don't know about." 

"I left soon after you, to be honest," Genji seemed reluctant to bring it up, gathering his thoughts for a moment before continuing. "At first I thought I would follow you, but once I'd left, it was different." 

Jesse didn't want to make Genji say anything he didn't want to say, but it  _had_ been a surprise that Genji hadn't even tried to stop him. "How d'you mean?" 

Genji shrugged. "I'd spent all those years being an Overwatch lapdog, hating them, hating you, hating Hanzo, and years before that being a pawn for my family. I was... tired. I didn't see the point of it all anymore." Genji caught Jesse's worried look at that last part, and he held up a hand. "Not like that, I only meant—I felt like I had wasted years away on hatred. I decided it was more important to find peace." 

Jesse thought that over. He hadn't expected to hear it, but in the end, it was what he'd always wanted for Genji. He was mostly shocked because it was a tough thing to do—coming to that conclusion yourself, after everything Genji had been through. It was much easier to just keep hating and blaming. "And did you?" 

"Not at first." Genji gave a mechanical laugh. "But I think I just needed a teacher and to learn how to be a good student. I was searching in all the wrong places—peace isn't out there somewhere, or found by revenge. It's been right here with me, and I'm finding more and more of it each day." 

Jesse gave a whistle. "Sounds like a hell of a teacher," he commented, giving Genji a lop-sided grin. "I'm real glad for ya, though. Always hoped things'd start lookin' up for ya." 

"Likewise." Genji seemed to give a sigh, the action releasing steam from two vents in his shoulders. "I'm sorry you haven't found Hanzo, if that's still your plan." 

"Not giving up yet." Jesse nodded firmly. "I got things I gotta answer for, and—I can't leave things how they are now. When you feel that way about somebody once, it doesn't just go away." 

"You've thought about the fact that he might not be who or what you remember? I think that you loved him, and perhaps you still do, but it's been a long time, Jesse." 

"I ain't the same person either, doesn't mean I can't do somethin'." 

Genji nodded. "If you're sure." 

The conversation died down, and Genji took to looking around at the small motel room. He gave a short huff of a laugh at Jesse's boots sitting next to the bed, spurs and all, but went quiet again when he spotted something else. 

Jesse turned to see what he was looking at, and frowned. The two pieces of his communicator. 

"Will you answer the recall?" Genji asked, now that they were both looking. 

"What for?" Jesse crossed his arms across the table, staring at the light reflecting off his metal arm. "They don't own me no more." 

"Not even to ask more questions about Talon?" 

Jesse shook his head. "I got more important business than endin' up roped into that life again. The train was—I don't want none of it followin' me, either." He took a deep breath. "Amari's gone, Gabe's gone, and I put my years in. Plan was always to get out eventually, why would I get back in?" 

"I can see where you're coming from." 

"You gonna answer it?" 

"...I don't know. Part of me wants to, and I have my reasons, but there are some things I need to know first." 

"Talon?" 

"That and other things," Genji nodded. "I have many unanswered conflicts in my past, and if answering them takes me to Overwatch, then at least there will be some friendly faces." 

Jesse gave a small smile, thinking about who had been left and who was mostly likely to answer Winston's call. Reinhardt for sure; he wasn't going to care whether or not it was illegal. Oxton too, maybe. She always seemed like the kind who was looking to prove herself, or prove that the concept of people trying to do good could work. 

He did miss some of them, but not enough to go back to it all. It had been a mess in the end. Commanding officers keeping secrets, the UN throwing them to the wolves, Blackwatch being practically kicked to the curb after doing everybody's dirty work for years. There was more to it too, Jesse knew it in his bones. It had really gotten at Gabe in the last few years.  

But Gabe was gone, and Jesse's misplaced loyalty went with him. He'd wasted enough time and enough good years. His real endgame was happening now, and that was all that mattered. 

"Well, you can tell 'em about the train," Jesse finally said, confirming that he wasn't going to be joining them. "And you'd better keep in touch. Hopefully one of these days I'll have news." 

"Hopefully. I do hope you find him, Jesse," Genji pressed. "Despite what happened, I don't wish either of you badly. Not anymore. Hanzo doesn't need my anger. I'm sure he's punished himself enough for both of us." 

"If he's out there, I'll find him. You wait and see. There ain't an outcome here where I go back on that." 

"Good." 

 

 

 _It_ _took over a year for Overwatch to give up on their surveillance of the old Shimada trade routes in the southwest. A lot had changed in that_ _year_ _; t_ _he group had found new ways into the United States, and the last survivors of Deadlock had disbanded long ago. The bad deal was rarely even discussed anymore. Everyone had moved on._  

 _Everyone but Hanzo._  

 _He_ _hated all of it. Hated the meaningless new deals, hated the need for them, hated Overwatch, hated Deadlock. He_ _hated the Shimada group most of all_ _for a while. There was_ _nothing left to do but resign himself once again to the same routine and claustrophobia_ _he'd had before Jesse_ _and_ _that, too, he hated_ _._  

 _Every minute of every day, the_ _threat of_ _emotional meltdown_ _continued to lurk inside him, and he kept fighting it back,_ _if on_ _ly for the sake of his pride. It made him want to scream at everyone around him, demand answers as to how they could not only_ accept  _this life, but actually_ want  _it. He felt trapped, forced back into a dark cage just when he'd finally seen a little light. He didn't want to be here anymore, but he lacked the resource_ _s_ _to escape their grasp, and his motivation to risk it disappeared with Jesse. There was nothing, and no one, to run for._  

 _He wasn't sure he could leave Genji behind_ _either, although some days he wondered if it would make a difference. Genji seemed to have forgotten about Jesse as quickly as the rest of the group forgot about Deadlock, and he rarely spoke to Hanzo about it anymore. In fact, he rarely spoke to Hanzo at all. Hanzo thought that something had changed after Jesse left, when Genji stayed close for a while, offering support, but it wasn't so. Their father and the elders still placed all their expectations on Hanzo, and Genji was still permitted to do_ _whatever he wanted._  

 _It was infuriating. He wanted to_ _bring_ _the entire estate down_ _some days, but he never did_ _. He didn't want to admit defeat. If Jesse thought he wasn't worth even a goodbye, then Jesse wasn't worth breaking down over. There were people in the estate who would just love to see him fail_ _too, and the best revenge against them was_ _to prove them wrong._  

 _Spite was as good a motivator as anything else; especially when he had nothing else._  


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Nervously laughs away how long this took.... 
> 
> I'm really sorry for taking forever though, college gets busier and busier the closer Christmas break comes, and group projects are made by the DEVIL. 
> 
> Extra thanks for my beta this time though because she helped me with this when she was sick, she's too kind ;~;

_"Hanzo?"_  

_Hanzo paused as he made his way down the stone path back to the_ _Shimada estate_ _, registering_ _Genji's_ _voice, then_ _continued_ _walk_ _ing_ _on at a brisker pace._  

_"Hanzo!"_  

_He_ _heard Genji's footsteps behind him, hurrying to catch up, and clenched his jaw, staring right ahead of him._  

_"Hanzo, why are you ignoring me?" Genji asked when he caught up, walking fast at his brother's right side. "This has been going on for weeks, don't think I haven't noticed."_  

_"I'm busy."_  

_"No,"_ _Genji_ _moved to stand in front of him, blocking his way and forcing him to stop. "You're avoiding me,_ _you're ignoring me. I've been trying to talk to you, you're ignoring all my texts_ _—_ _"_  

_"I don't want to go into the city with you_ _. Move_ _out of my way."_  

_Genji took a deep breath. "I know you haven't been yourself. You've been—you're angry, and stressed. I just want to help, you need a break—"_  

_"I don't need your help_ _._ _"_ _Hanzo_ _finally looked at_ _Genji_ _, spitting the words out. "Not all of us have it as easy as you,_ _Genji_ _. Some of us have actual work to do, and if I d_ _o_ _n't do it, your complete and total disinterest and uselessness would be noticed. I don't have time to slack off like you because I am already doing everything."_  

_Genji's_ _mouth fell open slightly_ _. H_ _e stared at_ _Hanzo_ _with round eyes that didn't work_ _the same way_ _on_ _him_ _anymore, speechless._  

_Hanzo_ _gave a snort and pushed around_ _Genji_ _, shoving him with his shoulder as he continued on, leaving his brother alone in the garden behind him._  

 

 

 

Overwatch's grand return was not what Hanzo had expected.  

For starters, the watchpoint he'd followed Genji to was just short of being described as in complete disarray. The alarms did not signal his unexpected arrival until he was already on base and the two who came to greet him seemed to have nothing in the way of weapons at the ready. Perhaps they had already seen that his bow remained slung across his back — a signal that he meant no harm. For now, at least. 

One of the pair was a short woman with a British accent wearing aviators, and the other was... well, there was no way around it. He was a talking gorilla.  

He learned quickly why they hadn't drawn their weapons, though. 

"It's Hanzo, right?" The woman called out as she came down the slope. There was a quick blue flash, and the next moment, she was standing beside him. He tried to mask the way his hand almost reached for an arrow. "Or is it not polite to call you Hanzo?" 

The gorilla had noticed the twitch of Hanzo's hand toward his weapon. "Lena, maybe don't accelerate around new people."   

"Oh, right, sorry." She grinned at him, wider than anyone should have been able to, and held out a hand. "Lena Oxton! Genji told us you'd be showing up." 

Hanzo blinked at the offered hand and then looked back up at her, frowning. "What?" 

The gorilla adjusted his glasses, tilting his head at Hanzo. Of course he was wearing glasses. "He informed us that you would be arriving shortly after him. Should he... not have?" 

Hanzo scowled. "Where is he?" 

"He left last night for Nepal," Lena answered. Hanzo caught her sharing a look with Winston. "He'll be back, though. Why don't you come inside?" 

Had Genji somehow confirmed that Hanzo had followed him after their meeting in Hanamura, or had he just assumed? If he was so sure Hanzo was coming, why had he left rather than wait to greet him? Hanzo took a deep breath and closed his eyes for a moment, feeling the air enter and leave his lungs as he calmed the anxiety growing in the pit of his stomach. When he opened his eyes again, both Lena and the gorilla were staring at him. 

"That would be nice," he answered finally, clearing his throat and remembering his manners. "Thank you." 

Inside was not much different to his first impression of the exterior. The place was covered in dust—clearly in both disuse and disrepair. He felt a strange urge to start cleaning, ignoring it as he followed his two new  _associates_ to the kitchen. It was decently sized at least, and there were a few quite large tablets, a couch, and a television off to the side.  

"Would you like some coffee? Oh, my name is Winston, by the way."  

Hanzo wasn't sure he'd ever get used to addressing a gorilla. "No, thank you." He noticed Lena making something for herself and possibly Winston; it was probably polite to accept something, if they were going to sit down here and talk. "I will have a black tea if you have it." 

Lena pulled a face as she inspected the jar of ground coffee she was holding. "Black tea, huh? We have tea, but I dunno what brand or anything, so hopefully it's not terrible." 

"I am not picky." 

Winston laughed. "That'll be good for you, around here." 

They were already talking as if Hanzo was staying indefinitely. What had Genji told them? Obviously, he was considering it, or he wouldn't be here, but—it was not as simple as that. He didn't know these people; he hadn't truly spoken to anyone in years. Settling in with them when they all had a history together was more like making himself a disturbance than anything else. Then there was Genji... His brother had offered him this one thing, when he had no reason to offer  _anything_. He had left the answer completely up to Hanzo, but there only really had only ever been one answer.  

Hanzo had spent ten years attempting to honor his dead brother with incense and feathers—he deserved to be honored properly, especially as he had survived, and if this was what Genji wanted, then Hanzo would try. 

He didn't realize how far he'd retreated into his own mind until Lena set a cup in front of him. He blinked at it, willing himself to be more attentive. "Thank you," he remembered to say, but didn't yet reach for it. He looked up at Lena and Winston, glancing from one to the other and back again, searching for words. 

"Genji didn't think you'd arrive so quickly," Lena started when Hanzo's silence became a long one, sitting across from him and hugging her cup with both hands to warm her fingers. "He just told us your name and stuff in case you did." 

"How long will he be gone for?" Hanzo asked, mirroring her and pulling his cup toward himself. 

"Not long, he's just picking up another friend and bringing them back." 

Winston gave a small laugh. "Genji is practically our human resources department at the moment. Not many of us have answered the recall, so he mentioned you and his friend. Anyone Genji can vouch for is good in my book." 

"Mine too!" Lena piped up. 

Hanzo looked down into his tea, frowning at his own reflection. Genji had vouched for him? Why—what? Genji hadn't seen him in ten years, and the last time he did... What  _was_  there to vouch for?  

"What did Genji—" Hanzo cleared his throat. "Did he tell you... much? About me?" 

Lena looked at Winston, and Winston looked at Hanzo, straightening his glasses. "We met Genji shortly after you two last spoke, so we know some of the story. But Genji asked us to welcome you, and as far as myself and Lena are concerned, the story isn't ours." 

Hanzo didn't feel comforted by that answer, even though it was the best he could've asked for. Part of him wished they did hate him; it was too confusing that they wouldn't. He'd been prepared for much worse than this and now he had no idea how to proceed—and the more he heard, especially with Genji. 

He made note of how Winston only addressed himself and Lena, though—it implied that there were others that would not think so kindly of him, and rightly so. He would be ready. Hopefully.  

"I appreciate that," Hanzo answered after a few seconds of silence if only because it seemed like the right thing to say. "How many  _did_  answer your call?" 

"Six so far, not including myself." Winston counted on his fingers. "Genji is out right now and another hasn't arrived yet, but she's on her way." 

"I was the first one to show up," Lena said proudly. "This is probably the first day since I did that we actually stopped to chill out a bit." 

Winston grinned at her, then turned back to Hanzo. "Would you like to meet some of the others?"  

Hanzo gripped his cup a little tighter. "...Perhaps later. I am tired from the journey." 

"When you're finished with your tea, I'll take you to a bed," Lena offered, smiling sympathetically. "There's enough rooms for everyone, no need to share, so you can get some peace and quiet." 

It was possibly the most appealing thing anyone had told him all day. 

 

 

 

_Hanzo_ _reached the lake at a run, falling to his knees at the side of the water and gasping, catching his breath. He dropped the Storm Bow in the grass as he crawled toward the water, splashing his hands in quickly to avoid catching sight of his reflection. The ripples spread quickly, red tendrils flowing with them as he washed the blood from his hands. When they were clear, he fell backwards, lying down flat_ _._  

_His breath was returning to him, but his heart rate_ _showed no_ _signs of_ _slow_ _ing_ _. He closed his eyes and pressed the palms of his hands against them, letting out a strangled noise. What had he done? What would his father say, if he'd lived to see it, if he had known what his oldest son was really like?_  

_Hanzo_ _felt like he'd been in a trance since Deadlock went down; thoughts and sight_ _both_ _muted by a cloud of red anger and bitterness, and he'd_ _only_ _woken from it when it was too late. Far too late. What had he done?_  

_He couldn't stay here. He sat up again, feeling around in the grass for the Storm Bow with shaking hands. When he located it, he stood again, moving closer to the lake again to splash some water over_ _where his_ _bloody_ _hands had stained it. The noise of his sword falling on the wooden floor of the indoor courtyard scattered through his mind—he'd left it where it_ _had fallen_ _, unable to look at it again, and fought his way out with the bow. He wondered how many others he'd killed in his escape—staff who tried to stop him—but_ _he decided he didn't want to know_ _._  

_H_ _anzo_ _had to keep moving, or others would follow, and_ _then_ _others would die. There was no way he was going back now, and no one was going to drag him back, either. He gulped down some air as the grief hit him again like a punch to the stomach—_ _Genji_ _, what would they do with him? Would they_ _hono_ _r_ _him correctly? Surely more justice would be done for Genji now than Hanzo had shown him._  

_He turned his head sharply as he caught_ _light moving out of the corner of his eye. Once he_ _saw_ _it, the noise reached his ears, too. There were jets over_ _Hanamura_ _,_ _searchlights_ _piercing the night. The Shimadas had no jets. Hanzo had no idea what it was, but he couldn't afford to wait around._ _The further he ran, the harder it would be for them to drag him back and use him again._  

_He_ _had to get away_ _,_ _as far away as possible from people he could hurt, or people who could influence him,_ _and then... Then he would decide what to do with himself next._  

 

 

 

 

"Mr. Shimada?" 

Hanzo startled from his fitful sleep, blinking away the water ripples tinted with red, and looked around the room, eyes wild. Grey walls, steel set of drawers, wide window—Overwatch Watchpoint.  

He swung his legs over the side of the bed, rubbing his eyes and composing himself. "Yes?" he called to the voice outside his door. A woman's voice, familiar—Lena. She must have gotten too nervous to keep calling him Hanzo. It didn't really matter to him what she called him, but he wondered if he'd made her worry about it, somehow. 

"I figured you wouldn't wanna sleep too long in case you're up all night," Lena's voice was muffled by the large door, but her tone came across clear, concerned. "We're thinking of making something to eat, if you wanna join us?" 

Hanzo thought about it. He wasn't really in the mood for people, but he was hungry, and they were just trying to be hospitable. It would be rude to decline, probably. He didn't want Genji to return and hear that he was being rude to his friends—these people who were willing to give him a second chance. He wanted Genji to see that he was trying. 

"I will be there in a few moments," he returned, frowning at himself. Did he sound annoyed? Should he explain that he was only drowsy? 

"Alright, nice!" Lena didn't sound offended, at least. "We'll be up in the mess room where you had tea, okay?" 

He heard her footsteps fade away and stood, stretching out his tired muscles. He always found it strange, that when he slept in a bed after a while of sleeping rough, the bed almost hurt more than the ground. He rolled his shoulders as he made his way to his adjoining bathroom, warming up the tense muscles. 

In front of the mirror, he quickly pulled his hair into a high ponytail while avoiding making eye contact with himself, glancing down as he reached for the ribbon beside the sink and tying it expertly. He had another glimpse of his face, straightening the stray eyebrow hairs before moving away.  

He supposed it was safe enough to dress casually and leave his bow behind in the room. Part of him rebelled at the idea, but actions spoke louder than words—especially since Hanzo was not the best at words. He had to show these people that he wanted to trust them. Despite the way his chest tightened with anxiety, he pulled on a t-shirt and tucked some casual, loose shorts into the top of his boots, leaving the room before he could change his mind.  

He still desperately wanted to clean the place up, he realized as he made his way to the mess room, trying to ignore the thin veil of dust that covered everything. At least the living areas didn't seem as bad. He wondered how long the rest of the Watchpoint had been left.  

Voices reached him as he drew near, along with an appealing smell. His stomach rumbled hungrily, but Hanzo took a moment to pause, mentally preparing himself for more people. He was fairly certain there were more present than simply Lena and Winston. He relaxed his face, hoping to avoid appearing tense as he entered. 

There was another woman, tall and slender, standing over the stove with Lena and two men at the table with Winston. One was so short Hanzo almost missed him, if not for the brilliant shock of a lot of blonde hair on his head and face. The other was gigantic.  

"Hello, Hanzo," Winston waved, only looking up from his holopad for a moment, but he'd succeeded in drawing the attention of everyone in the room to the newcomer.  

Hanzo swallowed, and cleared his throat. "Hello. I apologize, I didn't mean to sleep so long." 

"Hello!" The giant man's chair scraped harshly as he stood, holding out a hand to Hanzo. His voice was as sizeable as he was.  

Hanzo remembered Lena offering her hand and how he could have responded better, so he moved forward to take it, tensing a little at the strong shake. 

"This is Reinhardt," Winston said, looking up over his glasses with a small smile. "He doesn't have much a concept of an inside voice, sorry." 

"It's fine," Hanzo nodded toward Reinhardt when his hand was released, quickly taking a seat before anyone else offered theirs. 

Lena materialized in the chair next to him. "Food'll be ready in a few minutes." 

"This is Torbjörn," Reinhardt boomed, seating himself again and landing a big hand on the smaller man's shoulder. "He can be shy." 

"Not shy," Torbjörn grumbled, shaking the hand off. "Just not trying to shout the Watchpoint down." 

"That's Angela over there." Lena pointed toward the woman at the stove, and Hanzo quickly turned to regard her, studying her openly as she did the same. He knew her name—Genji had shared enough. She was the one who fetched him from the Shimada estate when Overwatch moved in shortly after their father died, when Hanzo—when Genji was saved.  

"Hello, Hanzo," she said, her accent very enunciated as she gave him a polite smile. He wasn't really sure how he felt about her. Part of him was grateful that she'd saved Genji when his family failed him, but another part was defensive, expecting judgment from her especially.  

"She's making a stew," Lena whispered. "We take turns cooking when there's enough of us around, but Angela's a better cook than most." 

Another conversation continued between Reinhardt, Torbjörn, and Winston. Hanzo felt pressure to say something to the two women, especially considering how short he'd been with Lena when he arrived. "Stew sounds good," he said, giving Angela a nod. "Thank you." 

The food was dished out with no real ceremony—only with routine as each member of the table stood to pass bowls over to the table, grabbing cutlery and glasses. Hanzo stood with them, wary of sticking out in their practiced dinner habits like a sore thumb, but also determined to help. Lena showed him where they kept all the cordials and stronger drinks but he settled for water, and waited for the others to start eating before he did. 

"Mei will arrive the day after tomorrow," Winston said, pushing his holopad away as he dug into his food. Hanzo frowned gently. Did gorillas eat meat? He didn't think so, but he wondered now if he remembered wrong.  

"It's not real beef," Angela answered his unspoken question, and he blinked, appalled that someone had noticed. "It's a meat substitute." 

Winston laughed, swallowing his mouthful of stew. "Don't worry, Mei was almost  _horrified_  the first time she thought she saw me eat meat." 

"Who is Mei?" Hanzo asked quietly. Obviously another member of the team, if she was the one Winston mentioned had answered the recall but had not arrived yet. 

"She'll be joining the team. She's somewhat of an ecologist, I suppose you could say. She's studied a lot of ecosystems and wildlife around the world—and she's a vegetarian—so you can imagine what she thought when she saw me eating with the others." 

"Ah." Hanzo wasn't really sure what else to say. Genji had not mentioned anyone by that name, so he supposed he'd just have to wait to meet her. Probably make another terrible first impression. "Have you had word from Genji?" While things between them were still tense, he yearned for someone familiar. 

"He and Zenyatta are leaving Nepal tomorrow," Angela answered quickly, looking around the table. "Sorry, I forgot to mention that he'd touched base a few hours ago." 

Who was Zenyatta? Hanzo pushed down a strange wave of jealousy that Angela knew more about Genji's comings and goings and meetings than he did. It made sense. These people were Genji's new family, and he owed Hanzo nothing. 

"Yay, another member of the team!" Lena grinned, and Reinhardt laughed with her. 

"Soon we will be a formidable force once again!" 

"Don't get too far ahead of yourselves." Winston waved his spoon at Reinhardt. "We still need more people to be able to run this place with any sort of functionality. Angela and I have our eyes on a few options, though." 

Angela nodded. "I need another medic. We cannot carry out any missions with good conscience until we can send one with a team and keep another on base."  

"The defenses aren't nearly up to standard, either," Torbjörn grumped. "I've a lot of work to do." 

"Oh that reminds me." Lena pushed her bowl away, finished already. She did everything so  _fast_. "I might need your help with that jet out there of yours, Winston." 

"Yes, ask him." Torbjörn pointed a thumb at Winston. "I've enough to be doing." 

"We will need fuel, too," Reinhardt mused. "For the jet, and other facilities on base. At least until our friend Mei installs some of those alternative energy sources she spoke of." 

Lena pulled a face. "We're gonna need money." 

Winston gave a short huff of agreement. "I know. There's a lot we can do ourselves, but I'm still working on the money part. We can't exactly go to the UN and ask for funding." 

"I will be reaching out to some contacts about sponsorship, perhaps." Angela narrowed her eyes at her food, deep in thought. "It won't bring us much, but it could help." 

Hanzo was listening to the conversation quietly, agreeing that they had a lot to do before declaring the place properly active—he'd seen that the moment he arrived. He wanted to help with some part of it, but he was not an engineer, or a mechanic, or a medic. He thought about offering to clean the place up, since he'd been itching to anyway, but then another thought occurred to him.  

He cleared his throat. "I can get some money." Everyone turned to look at him, a mixture of thoughtful, surprised, and in Angela's case, somewhat suspicious. "Not  _get_  money," he elaborated, going a little cold when he realized what Angela thought he meant. "There are several... accounts, old accounts—they were my father's, but became mine when he passed. No other should have been able to access them, and I have not touched them." 

"Shimada money," Angela said, more of a conclusion than a question. 

Hanzo thought carefully before he answered, addressing only her. "Yes,  _Shimada money_. Better recycled into something good than left untouched to gather more interest until someone with less honorable intentions finds it." 

The room was silent for a moment, then Winston turned to Angela. "He's right, you know. There's a sort of poetic justice in us using it." 

"I'm uncomfortable with the thought of using—well, it  _i_ _s_  blood money, isn't it?" 

Hanzo couldn't say whether some of it was or wasn't. It would be a lie to say he didn't think  _any_ of it was, though. "If it is, better that those who died for it did not die for nothing." 

Angela gave a small, quiet sigh through her nose, still looking at Hanzo. He could tell she was trying to read him, so he looked right back, unflinching. He had nothing to hide, and if this was the only way he could be useful until missions began, then he truly wished to offer it. 

"It's a very grey moral area," she said eventually. "I can't claim to know what would or wouldn't be right. It's up to you." She turned to Winston. "Whatever you decide, I'll support it." 

Winston gave a smile. "I appreciate that. I do think we won't get a better offer though, and I can see where Hanzo's coming from about recycling the money into something good, so to speak. Are you sure you're okay with it?" This, he directed at Hanzo. 

Hanzo nodded quickly. This was one thing he would not second guess. "I might need assistance accessing them," he admitted. "I have not exactly been in touch with bureaucracy in the last few years." 

"You can meet me in my lab tomorrow, If you want? I'll help you with whatever you need." 

"And while you're doing that, I'll keep working on the jet!" Lena gave a thumbs up, obviously excited to see things moving forward.  

"Will we meet here for breakfast before we all get to it?" Angela asked, rising from the table with her bowl. "I'll be doing more inventory of the med bay tomorrow so that I can make a list of what's missing to get it running, and I think Reinhardt and Torbjörn are getting the defense systems online?" 

"I will make the breakfast," Reinhardt offered, rubbing his hands together. "Breakfast is my speciality!" 

Winston grinned. "Sounds like we have a plan, then."  

Hanzo watched them all as they looked from one to the other, excitement evident in their eyes—even Torbjörn's. He could see why Genji liked them. They were each of them like his brother in one way or another, but mostly it was in their energy. Genji would have fit in quite well here, he thought. He wasn't so sure about himself, but their optimism was almost contagious, and he allowed himself to hope a little. 

 

 

 

Reinhardt hadn't lied about the breakfast.  

Hanzo wondered how many people the big man thought he'd be cooking for, but he ate his share of waffles and politely declined bacon or second servings. He was happy once he'd had some tea and was itching to get started with Winston.  

The lab was quieter than the mess hall, which Hanzo appreciated more than words could say. He had nothing against these people—so far, he added, thinking of Angela—but the socializing was draining him. Winston at least was very easy to talk to as he explained the old function of the Watchpoint while he set up his computer. He told Hanzo all about their grand ideas for the place.  

"We'll never have another base like we had before, that's for sure," he said, typing away and logging himself in. "But none of us want to, either. That place belongs in the past. This place will be the future. It was one of the busiest, most famous Watchpoints back in the day." 

Hanzo liked that statement. He could identify with it, to an extent. They were all here to put some sort of past behind them and do something good. Hanzo was here for Genji, and the others... well, they were here for everyone else in the world. Perhaps it was too ambitious of them, but Hanzo could respect them for trying.  

"The future is very dusty at the moment," Hanzo commented. "I've been meaning to offer help with cleaning up." 

Winston blinked, then laughed. "...Cleaning up hadn't occurred to us yet, actually, good point. Maybe we were thinking too hard about the things further down on in the to-do list." 

"You all have much to do. I can clean after we make arrangements for the money." 

"I'll help you out after I see how Lena's doing with the jet. Cleaning this place up might be a bigger job than any of us anticipate." 

Hanzo looked around, crossing his arms. "This room seems fine." 

"I've been staying here for the last few years on my own," Winston agreed. "I hadn't really done much upkeep on the rest of the place. Bad foresight on my part." 

"What did you do here, for those years?" 

"Small projects here and there." Winston spun around in his seat. "Actually, I just perfected this the other day, look!" 

Hanzo turned to watch him, stepping back as Winston dropped some sort of flat, mechanical device onto the floor between them. An impressive burst of light shot up out of it when it opened, curving into a giant dome of light over them.  

Hanzo stepped closer to the edge of it, raising a hand. He glanced at Winston, who nodded, indicating that it was safe has he reached out to touch it. His hand went right through it. "What is it?" 

"It's a shield designed to repel projectiles but allow the passing of individuals. Useful for creating cover, or a distraction if you need to run away. It'd be no use if it trapped the user inside." 

"Can enemies pass through it?" 

Winston pushed up his glasses. "Sadly, yes, but I'm working on an algorithm to distinguish between friendlies and hostiles. It can also only withstand a certain amount of damage at the moment, so I'm working on that too." 

Hanzo snorted out a small laugh. "I thought you considered it perfected?" 

"Scientist never mean it." Winston grinned. "There's always something else to perfect." 

The shield fell, and Winston retrieved the device.  

"It's very impressive, all the same," Hanzo commented. 

"I should hope so. I had a lot of time to do nothing  _but_  tinker with things." 

That was the second time Winston had mentioned his years alone here, but he didn't sound bitter when he said it. Perhaps that was why he was easier to talk to—Hanzo had also endured years of near solitude, even though his was self-inflicted.  

"Did it get lonely? Or boring?" 

Winston looked around the room as he thought about the question, and Hanzo wondered if perhaps it was too personal. "Boring, no. Lonely... sometimes. I had a lot of memories in this place, so there were times when it was... harder, to be alone." 

Hanzo followed where Winston was looking, noticing several photographs stuck up all around the room. He couldn't help his curiosity as he walked slowly toward the first one. A picture of a young gorilla wearing glasses—Winston, obviously. There was a man in the picture with him, smiling.  

He moved on to the next one, and raised his eyebrows. A photo of Torbjörn and Angela, dressed as a Viking and a witch, smiling into the camera. Someone had written 'Happy Halloween, Winston' on it with a hastily scribbled smiling face. They both looked so much younger. The next photo was of three people Hanzo didn't recognize. A dark, bearded man, a blond man, and a woman with an interesting eye tattoo. They all wore military uniforms, so it was clear they were old Overwatch members. 

Winston had clearly surrounded himself here with fond memories, Hanzo realized, and he felt he was coming to understand Overwatch a little better, and why Genji held them in such high regard.  

The next photo was of a large group of people, with Winston and Lena in the middle and a large congratulatory banner hanging behind them. The two men from the previous picture were in it, as were Torbjörn, Angela, Reinhardt and—there was Genji, hands on his hips, in an Overwatch uniform. Hanzo tilted his head as he examined the image. Genji's armor had changed since this was taken. A man stood next to Genji, and beside him was the woman with the eye tattoo. 

Hanzo did a double-take at the man between Genji and the woman. It looked like—but no, it couldn't be. This was taken less than ten years ago, there was no way it was— 

He went cold as he examined the next photo. A group of people gathered around a small child, like family. Torbjörn, Angela, Reinhardt, and—it couldn't  _possibly_ — 

"Winston," Hanzo called out suddenly, voice shaking. He felt weak as he lifted his finger and pointed. "What is this man's name." 

Winston made very little noise as he came closer to see, perhaps sensing that something was wrong. He pushed up his glasses and leaned in, frowning at where Hanzo was pointing. 

"In the cowboy hat? He's Jesse McCree, why?" 

Hanzo exhaled heavily, taking a few staggering steps backwards until he hit something he could sit down on. He couldn't breathe properly, he was—he was cold, he couldn't breathe right, his chest felt like it was constricting.  _Jesse McCree...._  

"Hanzo? Are you okay?" 

"I—I need to call Genji," he breathed out, placing a hand over his chest as he worked to calm himself down. "I need to talk to him, immediately, I—" 

"I'm going to call Angela, and then we'll get Genji for you, okay?" 

Winston was moving away, and Hanzo looked up, eyes wide. "Genji—" 

Winston was typing something into his computer. "We'll get him as soon as Angela's here, don't worry." He came back over to Hanzo when he was done, placing two warm, hairy hands on his shoulders. "I think you might be having a panic attack, have you ever had one before?" 

Hanzo shook his head, and it made him dizzy. He wasn't having a panic attack, he just needed to breathe, there was something constricting his chest, and he was just cold—so cold, inside and out— 

"That sounds like a panic attack," Winston said, and Hanzo realized he'd been speaking out loud. Winston stepped back to give him space, and Hanzo wrapped his arms around himself, bending down until his forehead was almost touching his knees. 

"I'm sorry," he bit out through chattering teeth. "I'm sorry, I—" 

"It's alright, don't worry," Winston spoke in a calm, soothing tone. "Angela will look you over, and then we'll get Genji for you, yeah?" 

Hanzo nodded. Genji was in the photograph with—with  _him_ , he must have known Hanzo would've discovered it. In Overwatch together, he and Genji, less than ten years ago... Not dead.... Not dead at all, either of them.  _He_  had left, just like Hanzo had guessed. In what universe had Genji decided not to mention this? Hanzo wondered when they’d met— was he here ten years ago when Overwatch picked Genji up, or before, when Deadlock got raided? Perhaps he’d been with Overwatch since the beginning. It would’ve been a good way to get rid of Deadlock  _and_  the Shimada group; two birds with one stone. 

No, that didn’t make sense either, because he disappeared. It all came down to whatever happened at Deadlock, and Genji would know, there was no way the two of them hadn’t discussed it in their time here. 

There were parts missing to this story, and he was going to find them. 


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey. So. It's been a while. OTL
> 
> I explained for some people who asked on Twitter/Discord/Tumblr why there was such a big gap between these two chapters-- basically at college, I do not have exams. Instead I have projects that need to be handed up for each module, twice a semester. So I had 6 project briefs in September, due for Halloween, and then 7 after Halloween, due on the 23rd of December. I fell behind because of Final Fantasy XV, so I had to go nuts with those projects for a while there.
> 
> I'm really touched that some people asked what was going on, though, that means some people like this thing I've been burping out, thank you ;~; I've read all the comments, just hadn't had time to respond to all of them, but again, thank you so much!

After he calmed down, Hanzo found that he didn't particularly want to call Genji right away. He wasn't sure he was ready for that conversation. He wasn't sure  _what_  he wanted. Angela had arrived swiftly after Winston called her and he was kind enough to leave his lab to give Hanzo the necessary space to be a human mess if he wanted to. It took him half an hour after hearing the name to calm down enough to declare himself fine and by then, Angela was concerned. 

"Has that ever happened before?" she asked gently. It grated on him—not because he spurned her attempts at reaching out, but because he knew there would be too many questions now. Impressions were important to him, and they must all now think him weak. 

"...No," he replied simply, in no mood to elaborate.  

"Would you like to discuss what brought it on?" 

Hanzo shifted uncomfortably in the hard chair she'd moved him to after arriving. "Not really." 

Angela leaned back in the chair opposite, scanning his face. "It will be less likely to happen again if you find an outlet, and I can guarantee that anything you tell me will stay between us." 

Hanzo looked off toward Winston's screens—away from the photos—and scratched absently at his elbow. 

She wasn't ready to give up, it seemed. "Do you know McCree?" 

"No," he answered too fast, but it was partially true. He didn't believe that he knew the man in those photos.  

"That was quite a reaction to a picture of a stranger, Hanzo." 

"I would really prefer not to discuss it." 

Whatever showed on his face seemed to convince her to leave him be anyway, at least for now. "You should go get some rest—is there anything we can get you to help you relax?" 

Hanzo looked at her again, narrowing his eyes. "Medication?" 

Angela gave a wry smile, and shook her head. "No. I meant tea, or anything else that you know puts you at ease." 

Hanzo thought of the small pouch of tobacco he had brought with him, but figured it would be best not to mention that to her. "No, thank you. I think I will sleep." 

"I will let you go, then. But Hanzo?" She continued as he rose from his chair. "You can talk to people here, if you change your mind. We all knew him." 

"I will speak to Genji once I have rested." 

"Well, the offer still stands." 

"...Thank you." 

In his room, Hanzo gathered up his tobacco pouch, praising his good sense to have kept some skins and filters in the tin that contained it, and found that the roof above his room was quite a still, pleasant area for indulging in a short smoke, after he'd climbed out his window.  

He looked out at the reflection of the afternoon sun glittering off the waves, trying to reign in his thoughts and focus only on the sea. He wasn't doing a great job of it. He had too many questions that he kept running over, and he didn't want to contact Genji yet because he didn't know which questions were most urgent to ask. He didn't want to ask any of the people here, either—he didn't like that they all claimed to know him, and wasn't sure if he'd like what they had to say. 

What if he answered this recall? He took another long, drag of his cigarette.  

When he'd finished, he decided to go lie down, and stubbornly stayed there until sleep decided to take him. 

He woke up an hour and a half later to a knock on his door.  

"Hanzo?" 

The doctor. Were they stuck on first name basis now? "Yes?" 

"Winston asked me to give you a communicator—Genji checked in and, I'm sorry, but Winston mentioned that you were unwell and he said he would like to contact you—" 

"I'm coming." Hanzo shoved the sheets away from his body, sitting up quickly and rubbing at his face. He was still fatigued, and to top it off he now felt groggy, too. He cleared his throat as he stood, straightening himself up before pulling the door open an inch. "What did Winston say?" 

Angela stood in the hallway with a small handheld device, apology written on her features. "Not much. Genji asked for you, and Winston told him that you were resting, so naturally he asked a few questions." 

Hanzo breathed out a sigh, hoping she didn't take his disgruntlement personally but not interested in hiding it either. "I will explain to him." 

She offered the device to him. "Winston set you up with Athena as a guest for now, but the communicator still has links with all other agents. I hope you will keep it carefully."  

"Of course." He opened the door wider to accept it, frowning at how heavy it was. Most handheld holopads these days were light and practically two dimensional. "Genji will be listed in here somewhere?" 

"Yes. When you turn it on—hold your thumb over the sensor there on the side, yes—Athena will guide you through the rest once she confirms that it's you." 

"Thank you, again. Does Genji know that I have this?" 

Angela gave a quiet laugh. "He is aware Winston was setting it up, but not that you are awake. You can rest another while before touching in with him." 

Hanzo nodded, relieved. "I am sorry I couldn't help more with today's tasks." 

"It will all still be there for us tomorrow." 

The exchange was awkward, but Hanzo suspected that she was still as sincere as he was trying to be. She was harder to figure out than the others, but if he didn't go out of his way to make an enemy of her, she seemed to be agreeable enough. "I will be out soon, even so." 

"No problem. I hope you are feeling better." 

He was spared the discomfort of trying to think of another response as she headed off down the hallway once she'd finished, and Hanzo let the door fall closed again as he examined the device in his hand. 

The screen was still dark, and he hovered over the sensor that Angela had pointed out to him. He finally pressed the pad of his thumb against it as he took a seat at the edge of the bed, watching Athena's logo appear.  

"Please state your name clearly." The AI had a rich, female voice that he supposed was intended to sound soothing.  

He cleared his throat again. "Hanzo Shimada." 

"Good afternoon, Hanzo." Even the AI was on a first name basis? "You have been assigned to the system as Guest_271. Some archives will be unavailable to you, but certain agent-level clearances have been given. Would you like me to list them for you?" 

"Ah, is there a directory of agents I can contact?" 

The screen changed, and a list of names and faces appeared. "Would you like to postpone the other explanations?" 

"Yes please, for the time being."  

"If you require assistance, swipe up on the screen and select dictation." 

"Do you monitor the conversations?" 

"They are all saved to the system, but rarely accessed." 

He didn't like that, but he expected it. Why couldn't he just phone Genji? Did Genji even own a phone anymore, or was this more convenient in some way? He supposed they weren't too comfortable with discussing Overwatch or its members on an unsecured line. "That will be all." 

Athena didn't respond, which hopefully meant she had stopped listening for now. He scrolled down through the list of names—most of which he didn't recognize—wondering if he really was about to call Genji right now. The first name that he did know was unfortunately one that he did not want to see, but should have been ready for, all the same.  

Jesse McCree. There he was, on a list with other agents of the organization. Truly he was one of them, then. But since when? Was he still active? Was he—was he still living?  

On some insane impulse, he selected Jesse's name, and almost pressed connect, just to see what would happen. He stopped himself, taking a deep shuddering breath and willing himself to pull it together as he jumped back a screen to the list again. He scrolled right past this time until he found Genji, and initiated the connection before he could change his mind.  

It beeped a few times before he heard his brother's voice. 

_"Yes?"_  

"Genji?" 

_"Ah, I thought it would be you. Winston said he was going to give you a communicator but I didn't think he'd be_ _that_ _fast."_  

Hanzo had no idea what to say. He hadn't had many long conversations with Genji since they'd met again but the ones they'd had were very deep, and Hanzo didn't know how to do casual anymore.  

"I had hoped you would be here for my arrival." 

_"I wasn't sure you would actually come—and I had something else to attend to._ _My teacher and I_ _should be there_ _tomorrow night, though._ _"_  

His mentor. That must be the Zenyatta that Angela mentioned. Hanzo did not want to go down that path just yet.  

Genji noticed Hanzo's silence. _"How is it going there so far? Are you sick?"_  

How could he speak so casually? Did Genji not suspect that Hanzo had heard anything about Jesse yet? Did he have no intention of informing him? "Why did you not tell me, Genji?" 

He heard Genji take a slow breath.  _"Tell you what?"_  

"You know what.  _He_  was here, there are pictures of you and he—and others—in Winston's lab." 

_"Truthfully, I didn't think it was important_ _."_  

Hanzo rubbed a hand across his face and willed his heart to stop sinking into his stomach. "How could it not be important?" 

_"It is a different issue for a different day."_  

"I was unprepared to see them, I—I didn't know what to think—" 

_"I'm going to interrupt before you scold me, because it's undeserved. I did not tell you because I'm more invested in repairing our relationship, and thanks to the nature of what broke it, I don't owe you any explanation for what I did or who I saw in the last ten years."_  

Hanzo blinked. "I did not imply that you did." 

_"Except that you did when you suggested I owed you a warning. I'm willing to meet you halfway, Hanzo, but I am not going to baby you, either. Yes, I knew that you would find out eventually, but these are all things that you need to confront yourself. The part of me that cares for you wanted to spare you one more thing for now, and the part of me that cares for myself didn't want me to get into the habit of letting you think I owe you anything."_  

Hanzo searched for a retort, his mouth opening and closing, and eventually realized he couldn't find something to say because there was nothing  _to_ say. Genji was right. He had done enough in even offering Hanzo the chance to make things better again, even if they would never be the same, and that was Hanzo's job to do—not Genji's. After what had been done, Genji was under no obligation to make things easy for his brother. Not for revenge, or spite, but because of respect. Hanzo had not shown much respect for Genji's situation. 

"You're right," he finally said. "Obviously. I just... I didn't expect to find him, here." 

_"I can imagine. The_ _hard_ _work is all on you, but I do still intend to support your attempts along the way._ _"_  Genji's tone had returned to something more casual, and Hanzo hadn't noted the strength to it before until it was gone. Genji had really changed. _"Winston said you took ill?_ " 

Hanzo snorted. "That's one way to put it." 

_"Did you—well, did you have a_ _little outburst_ _, or something?"_  

"That's another way to put it, I suppose." 

Genji paused.  _"You know there will be more of this? Emotionally taxing situations, I mean. Not just because of him—why are we not saying his name, by the way? But anyway—it's not going to be easy, putting everything behind you, I know this from experience."_  

Hanzo felt foolish now—making a big deal out of seeing a photo of someone who didn't matter in the bigger picture of why he was here. He knew that wasn't Genji's intention, but it put things in perspective for the moment at least. "Angela has been offering an ear, I think." 

_"If you can talk to her, you should. If not her, someone else. It can't be me for obvious reasons."_  

"No, of course, I wouldn't expect you to do that." 

_"I can introduce you to my teacher when we arrive. I think you'd find talking to him really helpful."_  

Hanzo made a face. "Isn't that against some law? He is your—confidante."  

_"He's not a psychiatrist, Hanzo, and I'd be fine with it."_  

The thought still made Hanzo uncomfortable, but he didn't want to turn down Genji's offer outright when he was kind enough to give it. "We will see." 

_"Ha. That's just a nice way of saying no, but it's up to you. I just hope you find another way to get it out instead._ " 

"Sleep helped." 

_"You should go back to sleep. It's actually kind of late here, anyway—but I'll see you tomorrow night, or the morning after that."_  

"Okay. Thank you, Genji." 

_"You're welcome."_  

 

 

 

After his talk with Genji, Hanzo was determined not to wallow in self-pity over the incident. He realized as he lay in bed that night that he did not ask his questions or get his answers about how Jesse ended up at Overwatch or where he was now, but he did his best to put it from his mind. Genji was right—what he was trying to do at this point in time was more important. Genji had given him his chance and the next move was Hanzo's. Whether or not Jesse had been here—whether or not he and Genji had been friends—was not his business anymore. He wondered what he would do if Jesse was alive and if he had answered the recall, but it wasn't worth forming the hypothetical situations. It was not reality. Reality was redeeming himself and repairing what he had damaged with Genji, by proving himself better through Overwatch. 

The next morning, he woke early and spent an hour meditating and going through some poses on the roof above his room before helping Lena with breakfast. He attempted to involve himself—wished her good morning, asked her how the work on the day previous had gone—and she seemed to appreciate it. 

"You much better today?" she asked him while pushing some tea bags around in a pot to brew them faster. "Heard you felt a bit wobbly yesterday." 

"Much better," he replied with a nod.  

"Good to hear!" 

Breakfast was as boisterous as yesterday once everyone had risen and presented themselves. There was another face at the table—Brigitte, a friend of Reinhardt's. She had apparently arrived yesterday while Hanzo was holed up in his room and was here to assist with the jet and the defenses.  

Hanzo followed Winston to his lab again after he was fed and made a point of ignoring the photographs this time.  

"Alright then." Winston stretched out as he sat in front of the computer. "Will we get right to it?" 

"Yes please." Hanzo dragged a chair over to sit off to one side, not relishing the idea of taking a seat on the edge of Winston's tire—but not obviously judging, either.  

"Let's start by telling me everything you know about the funds—what bank they're with, local branches, or other locations." 

It took several hours but wasn't actually as difficult as Hanzo had expected it to be. The most difficult part of the process involved proving his identity and bypassing all the security questions posed to him in the calls to get access. Some of them were difficult to remember—what was his first pet's name? They'd had two cats—which one did they have first? And the online banking pin code—six digits, he vaguely remembered setting it as a date when the accounts had been handed to him, but what was the date? Oh, yes—his mother's anniversary. He needed to update his details, which Winston helped him with by setting him up a new email address and letting him use his phone number for the time being.  

At the end of it all, the staff informed him that because the account had gone dormant, it could take up to three days to reactivate it and the savings account attached to it, but that he would receive an alert once everything was done.  

"So now we just wait for an email—but if I get a call I'll find you and put you on to them." 

Hanzo leaned back in his chair, rubbing at his eyes. "Thank you—I should acquire a new phone. I usually had to discard them after a time." 

"We'll add that to the list for whoever is next to the town for supplies." 

"I had hoped I would receive a balance for the accounts today, but they could not tell me over calls. I'll have to check once I can log in myself." 

"No worries!" Winston swung to face him. "How do you want to work it after that, by the way? Do you want the group to use that account, or do you want to transfer funds?" 

Hanzo hadn't thought that far ahead. "A transfer, I suppose? Better for it to be in the hands of all, than only mine." 

"This is a great thing you're doing, Hanzo. Just wait until you see this place when we have means to set it up properly." 

"I would like to start cleaning after this—although lunch first might be a better idea." 

"Oh yeah," Winston grinned, sharp teeth showing as he scratched his head sheepishly. "I forgot about that again." 

"It's fine—you must help with the jet, and I enjoy cleaning. I do not mind starting myself." Hanzo frowned. "Do you know if the team have any dietary issues?" 

"Sorry?" 

"Allergies—preferences in food, and such." 

"Aside from my vegetarianism, none that I know of. Why?" 

Hanzo smoothed his beard out with a finger and a thumb as he considered his idea. "I can make lunch for everyone. I am sure the others are beginning to need a break, too. Perhaps you can pass a message for them to join me in the mess room in an hour?" 

"I will! That's really thoughtful, Hanzo, thanks." Winston breathed a contented sigh. "I didn't ask earlier, but you seem to be feeling much better today. Settling in?" 

Hanzo nodded slowly. "I had much on my mind. Genji helped me... compartmentalize some of it. My thoughts were too divided, but I'm feeling much more focussed." 

"I'm glad." Winston stood from his tire, stretching as he readied to leave, making it clear that the conversation didn't need to drag on if Hanzo didn't want it to. "If you ever want to talk about yesterday, I have ears under all this hair somewhere." 

Hanzo gave an amused snort. "Thank you." 

 

 

The team filed in for lunch all within a few minutes of each other, bemoaning the afternoon heat of Gibraltar. Hanzo was glad there wasn't much in the kitchens for him to have made anything adventurous that might have been too hot for this weather. He'd made a large pot of very simple ramen instead, but not nearly the way ramen should be.  

He had unwrapped several packets of instant noodles and discarded their little seasoning packets, probably made entirely of salt and artificial MSGs. He'd brewed them in a broth with a vegetable stock—because he wasn't sure of chicken was suitable for Winston—spring onions, whole onions, shaved carrots, and some boiled eggs for all the bowls except Winston's. During the next supply run, he would be sure to gather better ingredients.  

The meal was appreciated all the same once it had cooled down. Lena especially seemed to like it, and went for thirds.  

Brigitte scolded her eventually. "You're going to be too full to help with the jet after that." 

"S'good though!" she protested, mouth full.  

"It will keep," Hanzo pointed out as he pushed his own bowl away. It had tasted alright enough and he was no longer hungry, but he really wished he'd had more to work with. "You can have more later."  

The cleaning itself was very therapeutic. The Watchpoint needed it so badly and the process of everything becoming more and more clean and impressive as he worked was as satisfying as he had imagined it would be, but there was no way he was going to get it all done in one day. That was fine, though—it would keep him busy.  

Later, as he passed through the kitchen, he noticed new bowls to be washed. Obviously more than Lena had come back for more, and the image made Hanzo warm and nervous at the same time. He was oddly pleased to have pleased. 

 

 

 

Jesse didn't waste much time in Dallas after Genji left. There was nothing left to do after their conversation once they'd agreed that Genji would pass on what happened with the hypertrain if he answered Winston. Jesse gathered up the pieces of his communicator after finally embracing sleep through exhaustion and a bottle of cheap bourbon. He put the communicator back together gently between one gloved hand and one metal one and packed it away with the rest of his belongings when he said goodbye to the dingy motel.  

He'd run out of leads for now, but it wasn't the first time that had happened during his search. It was probably good timing—the last few days had tired him out and he needed to think. He needed time to figure out where he was going next and time after that to put the last few days from his mind. It had sure been nice to see Genji again after so long, but the train, the recall... It made him feel anxious. He wasn't sure why, and he didn't really want to dig deeper, so he planned to take his time travelling through familiar territory while he got his head straight. He could take a hypertrain to LA, but the scenic route sounded much nicer right now.  _When in doubt, go back to what you know_ _,_  he thought.  

He wondered on the train from Dallas to Amarillo if it would be worth tracking Genji down again, if he didn't come up with any new leads. If his friend was open to the idea, he could share some stories with him about places that might have meant something to Hanzo, places he might show up in. Depended on what answer Genji had reached about the recall. He was pretty vague about it, but maybe he really did intend to answer. Jesse didn't really want to see many of the others—he wasn't sure how he'd feel about it.  

He crossed his arms and rearranged his position in his chair as he grumbled to himself. He was supposed to be thinking about  _something else_ , not running in circles with it all again. He didn't want anything to do with the recall, he didn't want to see all those faces again when the most important ones were missing and— 

He sighed to himself as Amari's face filled his mind. He always remembered her when they were both younger, for some reason, back when she was still teaching him. Well—she was always teaching him in one way or another, but back when it was official. She whipped him into shape alright—without her, Gabe would never have been impressed. 

Gabe. He didn't think about Gabe's face much—too often he just remembered how he didn't show at Amari's service, how absent he had been  _everywhere_  in the while leading up to that. 

_"Time and place'll come for that stuff, and you'll know it when it does."_  

Maybe Jesse only thought he knew it. He'd been so sure, back then, when he decided to drop it all and go looking for Hanzo. It felt like the right time, but five years later he'd found nothing. Had he wasted those five years? He didn't like to think so, but maybe, just maybe, he could've tried a little harder. Maybe he shouldn't have run out on Gabe. 

He swallowed as he realized he was reaching a conclusion he didn't want to reach. This was why he didn't want to think about all this in the first place. Why'd they have to go and send out the recall?  

_"You may think you can view this as a means to an end, but you will never reach that end unless you try."_   

"Sorry, Amari," he muttered to himself, the feeling of being even more lost washing over him. "I think I didn't try hard enough." 


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ayy look at that, there wasn't a 5 week wait for this update. Except now I'm back at college so I hope I don't go quiet again. Thank you so much for all the nice comments on the last chapter and to those who reached out about it-- I was so happy that people hadn't forgotten about this little thing.

The first thing Jesse did when he arrived in Gibraltar was head straight to a bar just off Irish Town—he'd been hoping to try one of those nice coffees they served in glasses to distract himself, but had arrived too late at night. A bourbon would have to do. The local police station was within sight where he leaned against the stone wall outside having a smoke, which was an odd sort of comfort. He'd dressed inconspicuously in dark jeans and a leather jacket and wasn't really expecting to be recognized even with his hat still in place. Nobody here would be on the lookout for him, and any suspicious characters wouldn't make it their business to hang around near the local authority, so he felt safe enough. 

Well, safe to a degree. For the last few weeks, he'd seriously tried to talk himself out of coming. It'd been coming for years though, and it was hard to put himself off a course of action when he knew it was probably the right thing to do. There was a reason he'd avoided confronting it for so long—the right thing was rarely the easiest thing.  

Jesse couldn't remember the last time he felt this anxious. He could see the mountain in the distance, and the climb up to the Watchpoint was going to be a lot more of an emotional one than the physical one. Five years ago he'd run out on these people in the dead of night—what were they to make of him coming crawling back? He didn't even have his story straight. He had no idea how he was going to explain himself. 

He'd gone for a drink first because showing up again in the dead of night was too dramatic even for him, and he needed to get his head straight. They'd be on high alert, and he really had to weigh the pros and cons of arriving unannounced. His communicator had felt like a rock in the bottom of his bag ever since he'd set off from Dallas. It hadn't gone off again, but he hadn't looked at it either. Might be about time now. After a drink, and maybe a sleep.  

He cursed quietly to himself as he took a last drag of his cigarette and searched for a tray to dispose it in. How long was he going to side-step around this whole thing? It had taken him nearly a month of aimless travelling across the southwest to finally make his way to L.A. for the flight here, and now that he was here, was he really planning to sit in a hotel for another month staring up at the mountain looming over him like an angry parent? 

He found a tray and stubbed the cigarette out with force, angry at himself again as he made his way back inside to order another drink and settle himself. What the hell was he so afraid of? Judgement? No—he was afraid of everyone who wasn't going to be up there, old faces and old voices that were loud in the back of his mind now that he was this close. He was afraid that it was too late to try harder now, that he'd disappointed them in life and now he'd disappoint them in memory. 

There was Hanzo's voice, too. When did life become so many difficult decisions? If he went back to Overwatch, when was he going to find time to try to track Hanzo down? In trying to mend his wrongs, was he abandoning his search for Hanzo? He couldn't answer that. There was nothing to even suggest Hanzo wanted Jesse to find him. He could be too mad, or even too indifferent. As Genji had said, years had passed and they'd both probably have become very different people. Maybe Jesse was just a face in Hanzo's past now. He couldn't say for sure until he found him, but he'd just have to find a way to be in two places at once. He had to make things right here, but he had no interest in giving up on ever seeing Hanzo again either.  

First things first—he had to call in and tell them he was coming or he'd be taken out by a turret and the first glimpse of him they'd have after five years would be his dumb face flat on the concrete outside the Watchpoint. He had no interest in doing that, either. If he put off calling in until the morning, he didn't trust himself to do it. He reached under his table to shove a hand around in his bag until he located the communicator, and put it on the mahogany in front of him to stare at while he downed a harsh mouthful of bourbon. He wondered if it would send a message for him if he looked at it long enough.  

With a sigh, he picked it up and pressed his thumb to the side, swallowing at the logo as it powered up. The top corner of the screen refreshed the time based on his location—01:34am. Would any of them even be awake? He breathed out a short laugh. Winston might be up tinkering with something, if he was the same as Jesse remembered. Winston would be the one to call too, considering he initiated the recall, but...  

Jesse pulled up the names, nostalgia washing over him as he scrolled through. So many people he'd tried to forget about, Ana Amari there at the very top—who or what was Guest_271?—Gérard Lacroix... Torbjörn Lindholm... His own name... He scrolled until he found Genji again, and took a deep breath before connecting.  

_"Hello? Jesse?"_  

Genji sounded a little sleep-heavy, and Jesse felt a pang of guilt. "Sorry, you were sleeping, huh?" 

He listened to the background noise as Genji shifted around.  _"The name on the screen woke me up,"_  he laughed.  _"I wasn't expecting to hear from you."_  

"Wasn't expectin' to call, either. Sorry for wakin' ya." 

_"It's fine. What's wrong? Have you had any more problems after the hypertrain? I told Winston about that, by the way, he said there was actually a similar—"_  

"You talked to Winston? You at the Watchpoint?" 

_"Yeah,"_  Genji spoke quietly.  _"I made my way eventually."_  

"I, uh..." Jesse searched uselessly for words, looking around the bar and trying to figure out when his throat got so tight. 

_"You okay?"_  Genji prompted.  _"Are you in some kind of trouble?"_  

"In a way." Jesse cleared his throat. "I'm, uh. I'm in Gibraltar." 

_"What?"_  

"I'm down in a bar on Irish Town, just got in a couple hours ago."  

_"You just—what? Why?"_  

Jesse took a deep breath. "Like you said—unfinished business. Been feelin' some kinda way about how I ran out.... Sorta jumped on a plane before I could talk myself outta it." 

Genji exhaled.  _"Okay. Are you coming to the Watchpoint?"_  

"Is there—I feel dumb askin', but could you come meet me and head up with me? I just—I dunno." 

_"I think I know what you mean."_  Genji went quiet for a minute, thinking.  _"Finish your drink and go find a hotel. S_ _end_ _me the details so I can come_ _find you early in the morning and we'll talk more."_  

"Yeah." Jesse rubbed at his face. "Yeah, sounds good. Hey Genji?" 

_"What?"_  

"...Thanks." 

Genji snorted. _"Don't thank me yet. I'll see you in the morning, okay?"_  

"Okay." 

 

 

 

 

Hanzo opened a cupboard in the mess room, retrieving a small cup as the kettle boiled. It was a little early for his morning tea, but the usual routine had changed last minute, so he thought he'd might as well pass some time. Every morning for the last four weeks or so, he would join Genji and his teacher, Zenyatta, out on the bridge above the runway. It had taken a lot of convincing from Genji—Hanzo hadn't really wanted to impose on their time, but after constant assurances that it could be nice, he'd found (once again) that Genji had been right. That seemed to happen a lot these days. 

Things had been odd at first when Genji and Zenyatta arrived, and poor Mei had arrived the same day, so her first impression of Hanzo couldn't have been good. But he had found her to be quite pleasant once he sought to rectify that, and he was sure she didn't think of him as  _always_  being so moody anymore. He still didn't quite trust Zenyatta, but when Genji had discovered that Hanzo enjoyed meditating on his roof in the mornings, both of them had been insistent on him joining them. He had slowly gotten used to going through the poses with Genji while Zenyatta remained an awkward extra presence, until it felt natural for him to be there.  

He usually spent a while alone with Genji at the end of every day as they were winding down. They would catch each other up on their daily activities, and gradually, day by day, work through some subjects from the past. Nothing was rushed, and yet it felt to Hanzo like they had come so far. Genji had even started joining him in the small training range, comparing the accuracy of his shuriken to Hanzo's arrows. It became common for them to challenge each other, which was nice—a small part of their old relationship returned to them.  

"I bet I would beat you with a sword now, though," Genji had said one day, and Hanzo had tensed until he had looked over at his brother. Genji had taken to keeping his face plate open when talking to Hanzo now, and seeing him became less difficult as he became easier to read. Genji just smirked and raised his eyebrow.  

"I imagine that you would," Hanzo agreed easily, because it was true. Genji was the better fighter now.  

Genji had not yet told him exactly what the family had done to him after Hanzo ran—it was a subject they hadn't broached much. Hanzo knew it was the family. The scars that riddled Genji's face were more than Hanzo had inflicted, and most definitely not the result of Angela's surgeries. He assumed that Genji would tell him if he was ready and resolved not to take offense if he was never told.  

But they talked about Overwatch the most. Hanzo gathered some leaves into the infuser over the rim of his cup as the kettle neared boil and gave a small smile as he thought about it.  

Despite his own predictions, he had come to like Genji's people. He thought maybe it wouldn't be as hard to remain with Overwatch as he had originally decided. They were all optimistic and difficult to dislike, flaws and all. He was wary of Zenyatta and Angela, but part of him realized that was just defensiveness. These two people were probably more aware than anyone of what Hanzo had done to Genji, and he had expected to be judged, but wasn't really sure how to respond to them when that didn't come. Mei was a nice girl. Hanzo had some theories about her, though. No person could be as cheery as that after what had happened to her, but her mental health was not his business. He snorted. He had enough to worry about with himself.  

While he had been settling in well, there had been several... incidents, he supposed, along the way. It was embarrassing in a way—he had never been this emotional in the past, but then again he _had_  spent a lot of time alone, running from anything he didn't want to confront. Facing some of it head on after he had developed bad habits was challenging. Genji did exactly what he said he would do, though. He was patient, and met Hanzo halfway provided Hanzo continued to try, and that was what kept him going. 

Winston deserved some credit too. He had developed what he liked to think was an actual friendship with a gorilla, and that was fine. Winston had a fascinating mind, and his stillness when he was absorbed by work agreed with Hanzo. They could carry conversations forever if not for time limits, even while both were distracted. He told Winston about Genji sometimes—little things, when a day had gone well, or some small step had been made toward progress. He told Winston some stories of their childhood, because he had asked and Hanzo found that he did not mind telling him. Winston told him about his human father, and Hanzo grew a new admiration for the work that he was trying to do here at Overwatch, now that he new what inspired him. 

"What inspires you?" Winston had asked when he had voiced that thought.  

Hanzo had to think about it for longer than he should have, probably. "Genji, obviously. Sometimes I think he is a fool to invest any time in me, but it simply makes me hope to make his efforts worth something. I don't want to disappoint him, but I also..... I want us to be happy again. He  _and_  I." 

His talks with Winston had made him realize that making this entire journey about doing things simply because it was what Genji wanted him to do was pointless. That wasn't true progress. For some insane reason, his brother genuinely wanted him to be happy, and affording himself that luxury was one of the hardest parts. It felt like betrayal to believe he deserved this second chance, or any time in Genji's company, but there was no point in dwelling on it. Such thoughts were a hindrance to the overall picture.  

"You're up early!" 

Hanzo almost jumped out of his skin when the real Winston, not some figment of his musings, spoke from the doorway of the mess hall.  

He shook his head with a scowl as Winston grinned at his fright. Hanzo turned back to his tea, pouring the water. "I am always up this early, but I am usually working with Genji and Zenyatta." 

"Oh that's right, Genji went out this morning." 

Hanzo hummed, moving the infuser around to brew the tea faster. "He left a message saying he had to collect something." 

Winston didn't respond, and Hanzo turned to see him still in the doorway, frowning at the table thoughtfully. 

"Is everything alright?" 

Winston scratched at his chin, and Hanzo pulled out a chair for himself while waiting. "I'm not sure it's my place to say." 

 "Probably not, if you are unsure." 

Winston stayed in the doorway, fidgeting with his glasses, and Hanzo gave a snort. 

"Would you at least sit down? You are making me restless just from looking at you." 

He did as suggested, but Hanzo narrowed his eyes when his little joke didn't seem to get a reaction. Winston noticed him staring, and shook his head. "Sorry, I slept late and work up too early." 

Hanzo removed the infuser, setting it on a saucer in the middle of the table and sipped, regarding his friend. "You are acting very strange." 

Winston smiled, but not happily. "I think I'm having a moral dilemma?" 

"Moral?" Hanzo pulled a face. "How is that?" 

"Mm, it's—I have this friend, and he's hiding something from another friend that's gonna come out eventually, and I suppose I think the other friend should be told." 

"That's—oddly specific, Winston. All of your friends are here in this building. Well, except—" Hanzo blinked. "This is about Genji. And me?" 

Winston nodded. 

Hanzo looked down at his tea, then took another sip. "I thought it wasn't your place to say." 

"I said I wasn't  _sure_  if it was." 

If Winston knew something about Genji—or where Genji had gone—that Hanzo didn't, there would be a reason for that, but how is this a moral dilemma? "You must spit it out now, though, so you've eliminated the need to decide." 

Winston pulled off his glasses, wiping at the bridge of them. "It might upset you, though." 

"I have been upset before, and survived," Hanzo responded dryly. He was quickly tiring of this. He was slowly realizing this was something that Winston was taking very seriously, and he was beginning to worry, but he had to know. He hated the mixture of anxiety and expectation that had settled in the pit of his stomach. "What is it?" 

Winston gave a long, noisy sigh. "Genji didn't go to collect something, he went to collect some _one_ , I think." 

"...And you think that this person will upset me?" 

"Well—there seems to be a chance of it, yeah, I—" Winston made a frustrated noise. "Genji didn't tell me either, though, I just still had the location grid active in the lab since the recall and I look at it sometimes, and I saw the marker in Gibraltar—" 

"Winston," Hanzo had to interrupt, because Winston was rambling on now and Hanzo knew that he would be hard to follow if he let him continue. "What is this? Who is in Gibraltar?" 

As soon as he asked the question, though, he started to realize. Location grid—the holographic globe Hanzo had seen a thousand times in Winston's lab when he pulled it up every now and again, remarking on the gathering of markers all in the same place, now. It showed the locations of any agent with an active communicator since Winston opened the connections for the recall. 

He could tell from Winston's grimace that they were both on the same page. Jesse had finally answered the recall. 

 

 

 

Jesse didn't think he'd sleep well in the hotel, nerves getting to him when he settled in for the night, but he didn't wake in the morning until he heard the knock on his door. There was an aura of white daylight around the edges of his curtain. Was it early still, or had he slept in?  

He sat up, pushing some hair out of his face and rubbing his eyes. "Yeah?" he croaked, checking if it was Genji or hotel staff. He wasn't really worried about anything sinister.  

"It's me," Genji confirmed.  

Just as expected. "Hang on there a tick," he called back, shoving the covers off himself and shaking his feet into his jeans, buttoning them when he stood. He padded barefoot to the door. "Sorry, I'll find a shirt now," he got out through a yawn, stepping aside to let Genji in.  

Genji reached up to remove his faceplate once the door was shut, and then he stretched. "Do you know how early I got up for you? You're lucky I'm a generous person." 

Jesse laughed, stopping to clear his throat as he dragged a shirt over his shoulders. "Y'didn’t have to come this early. What time is it anyway?" 

"About six-thirty." 

Jesse whistled. "Why didn't you drop by at a decent hour?" 

"I have my reasons." Genji seated himself on the edge of the bed, pushing the covers back into a tidier position so he had more room to cross his legs. "Besides, you woke me up in the middle of the night. Consider it revenge." 

"We better be even, then." Jesse desperately wanted a coffee. He was glad he slept, but he would have been glad for some time to find a little extra bravery.  

"For now." 

"Mmm. How's—uhh, how are you?"  

"Tired, but well. What were you gonna say first?" 

Jesse searched around the room for something to do with himself while they talked, and settled for pulling the chair around and dropping himself into it. "Don't rightly know, to be honest." 

"Were you going to ask about the Watchpoint?" 

"I'm still half-asleep, gimme a minute to find my words." 

Genji made a quiet noise, conceding, and shifted around to lean against the wall the bed was up against. He brushed a bit of dust off his knee and crossed his arms before he spoke again. "We should talk about some things before I bring you up." 

"Yeah... How'd you get down, anyway?" 

"Just a truck. Oh, that's right—I learned how to drive, impressed?" 

Jesse grinned. "I forgot you couldn't, but well done." 

"Thanks. But yeah—not that it isn't nice to see you, but—what brought you here eventually?" 

Straight to the point. That was always Genji, but it suited Jesse okay when he was having trouble figuring out where to start. "I just... I dunno, I thought about it a lot. I don't feel good 'bout how things went, from my side at least." 

Genji nodded. "You regret leaving." 

"...Yeah, I guess so. I mean, I don't regret what I been doing for the last while, but... I let people down, I know that. Seems to be a runnin' thing for me, but I guess I kinda know where I can start with fixin' this one." He rested his elbows on his knees, looking down at his bare feet. "Ran outta luck on the search." 

Genji seemed to think about his answer for a little while, his eyes hooded by his lowered lashes, before he narrowed his eyes. "It's a good reason, but I think there's more to fix within you than around you." 

"How d'you mean?" 

"It's about Reyes, and all of that, isn't it? Amari, too. They are gone, they can't tell you that it's all fine now that you're back. You're going to have to reach a point where telling yourself will be enough." 

"I know that, I— _man_  you got real philosophical, you know that?" 

Genji smiled, but didn't laugh. "So you really want to join, by choice this time?" 

Jesse nodded. "I wanna do somethin' right, this time." 

"And your search..." 

"I ain't given up on it," Jesse knew Genji would want to ask about that. "No way am I droppin' it, I just—I'm tired of bein' too late to right my wrongs, and I ain't gonna get another chance to do that with Overwatch. I can keep lookin', on the side." 

"Isn't that going to be hard, dedicating yourself to two separate causes?" 

Jesse shrugged. "I'm just gonna have to make sure the search doesn't get in the way of helpin' the team out. I never figured it'd be easy, but that doesn't mean I'm gonna drop Hanzo like that," he clicked his fingers for emphasis.  

"Oh, man." Genji shook his head and looked down at his knees.  

"What?" 

Genji bit the inside of his lip, and took a deep breath before speaking, eyes still looking anywhere but at Jesse. "Hanzo has been with me at Overwatch since the recall." 

Jesse sat up in his chair. He wasn't sure he heard right, but there was no way to hear that wrong. His voice came out small. "Huh?" 

"I wasn't going to tell you, at least not for a while. I think I had planned to tell him that I knew where you were when I thought he was ready, and let him do what he wished, but—well, you were gonna find out anyway when I bring you up the mountain." 

Genji was being entirely serious, Jesse realized, but he couldn't believe it. After years of searching, after dropping everything that had become important to him—then agonizing over going back for  _months_ —everything he both needed and feared was right here in Gibraltar.  

"You okay?" 

If he looked half as bad as he felt, Jesse figured he didn't make a pretty sight. He stood up and started pacing. " _No_  I'm not—are you jokin'? You better not be fuckin' with me." 

"I'm not joking. I had known where to find him for a while, and when the recall came up, I saw an opportunity to help him." 

"Help...? You're gonna have to fill me in here 'cause I'm clearly missin' a whole bunch o' somethings." 

"Hanzo punished himself enough, and I'm tired of animosity. In his mind, he needs to redeem himself, so..." Genji waved a hand toward the window. Overwatch.  

Jesse paused his pacing when he reached the dresser again, fumbling with a cigarette and a lighter. "How come you didn't tell me in Dallas? Or last night? Or—" 

"Light your smoke, then sit down and calm down while I tell you the same thing I told him." Genji leaned forward. " _Nothing_  obligates me to inform  _either_  of you of who I see or what I do. Your relationship from years ago is not on my list of priorities, Jesse, as much as I love you both. Hanzo's love life isn't my jurisdiction, and I'm more focused on helping him live with himself for now, nevermind live with you." 

Jesse took a long drag once he'd managed to light the damn smoke. "You had this same talk with him?" 

"He saw photographs of the old days. He's aware you didn't die in the raid but I didn't tell him anything else because it's not my job right now." 

"I spent the last  _five years_ —" 

"I had none of this planned until the recall, and when I saw you in Dallas I had a feeling you would end up here eventually." Genji was so calm about all this. He hadn't moved from the bed, he just watched Jesse pacing. "The time wasn't wasted. You had to figure out what you wanted to do on your own." 

"And what if I  _didn't_  show up?" 

"That question _is_  a waste of time, because you did. But as I said, I would have told Hanzo where to find you when I thought he was ready." 

Genji was making sense, but Jesse just really, really wanted to get his frustration out somehow, but Genji didn't deserve it. It wasn't his fault some stupid irony brought everything back to Overwatch, in the end, whether Jesse liked it or not. If Genji had told Jesse before he decided to answer the recall, Jesse wasn't sure how he would've reacted. Probably would've tried to get Hanzo to leave Overwatch, but... apparently Hanzo needed them. Jesse did too, if he admitted it. It took him five years to realize he'd made a mistake, and then months to get the courage to fix it. If Genji had told him earlier, he probably would've pushed away Gabe and Amari's memories forever.  

He was scared as hell, though. He still wasn't sure how much it would take to feel like he'd made up for leaving when he did and the way he did, and now that Hanzo was there, too... It was like everything Jesse had been holding in and piling up over the last twenty years was suddenly spilling out of him, and he had no idea how to gather it all up and put it away the right way.  

He dropped back into the chair, taking another drag of his almost forgotten cigarette.  

"Do you still want to come back?" Genji asked, and wasn't that the million dollar question.  

"Does he—does anyone know I'm here?" 

"I didn't tell anyone." 

So that left the decision entirely up to Jesse. He could leave again now, and no one but Genji would be any the wiser. He didn't think he could though, not after everything. "D'you think he isn't able to deal with me showin' up?" 

Genji frowned. "I think you both have things to work through, and neither of you should stall your own progress for the other. You shouldn't decide  _not_  to come back and fix what you want to fix because Hanzo is there, but if you have other valid reasons... You know me, I won't question it." 

Jesse gave a defeated laugh. "What if I'm just scared shitless?" 

"Valid emotion, not valid reason to stop yourself from doing what you were so sure you needed to do a moment ago." 

This was gonna end up being a lot harder than Jesse thought. "Guess you can take me up with you, then." 

 


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh, hey, it's been a while, huh?
> 
> I'm really sorry it's been, like, 7 months since the last update. It's too long to explain here what has been going on with me, but basically I've just been having a rough time of it. Mental health issues happened, lots of doctors and other appointments, new medication, etc, and there's also been some incidents in real life that were a long time coming that kept me busy. My best friend and housemate was attacked in July 2015, and this summer she finally had her day in court and put the evil man behind bars for 12 years! 
> 
> I wanna say that I'm so grateful for the comments here and for the people who tracked me down on Twitter and Tumblr, because without it, I don't think I would've found the motivation to keep writing. I really summarised it above, but it has been a really, really tough 2017 so far. I love you guys, though, and thank you for keeping me going <3
> 
> (This chapter is not beta read, by the way, so I apologise for any errors. The next one will be beta read.)

Hanzo cursed quietly to himself and crumpled another failed smoke between his palms. His tobacco pouch lay open in front of him, and he wondered if there was much point in trying again. His hands kept shaking too much to roll the papers right, and he was just wasting tobacco at this point. He wasn't one to indulge in a smoke when stressed, usually, but he could really use one right now. He exhaled noisily, frustrated, and glared out at the sea in front of him. He'd retreated to the roof of his room again—he found it calm, up here, and quiet. But not still enough to put an end to his thoughts at that moment. 

He shook his head at himself and gathered another filter and a new cigarette paper, taking a deep, calming breath as he readied himself to try again. He stopped before he starting adding the tobacco though, frowning at the two hands that had appeared at the edge of the roof, from his window. 

He just watched as Angela Ziegler pulled and pushed her way up onto the roof, bending down to brush down her leggings once she was up. She looked at the paper between his fingers and frowned, her eyes roaming to the scattered tobacco and crushed papers from his previous attempts. 

"Oh, I suppose you've already heard, then."

Hanzo grunted a vague response, looking away to busy himself again. 

"Give me that."

To his shock and slight amusement, Angela crossed her legs under her and sat down beside him, reaching to take the paper and the filter from his hands and pulling his tobacco pouch toward her. 

"I had assumed you would disapprove."

Angela gave a soft smile. "My father—he wasn't a heavy smoker at all, but he enjoyed one now and again. I cared for him in his later years and couldn't begrudge him his little smokes, but he was beyond putting them together himself."

Hanzo raised his eyebrows, surprised at this small insight into her past. Angela and he did not share much, despite her early offers. "Was he ill?"

She nodded as she rolled the paper around the tobacco, dabbing the edge with her tongue to seal it. "Parkinson's. Manageable, these days, but only to a certain point."

"I'm sorry."

"No need," she held out the perfect, straight cigarette to him. "He lived a long and good life, and I spent a lot of time with him before it was over." 

Hanzo didn't know what else to say, so he just nodded and accepted the cigarette. He thought of his own parents as he lit it, inhaling deeply. He barely remembered his mother, and his father—well, he wasn't sure how he would categorize his regrets in that area. 

Angela gave him time to let his first few drags settle in before speaking again. "Genji is back now."

"I assumed he would be by now, yes."

"And I suppose you already know he has company."

Hanzo took another drag. "I had guessed that much, too." 

"Are you going to come down today?"

Hanzo thought about brushing her off and telling her to go ahead, he'd be right there, but... He wasn't sure what the point would be in doing that. He was too tired of pushing things to the back of his mind, of putting on a face in front of Genji and his friends—and she had offered to listen. 

"I am not sure I ever want to come back down."

"Jesse might come up here instead."

Hearing his name stung, but he couldn't ignore it forever. " _Jesse_  might find himself flung off the roof into the ocean if he does."

Angela gave a quiet laugh, and Hanzo was relieved. He wasn't serious. Not  _entirely_.

"What are you afraid of, if you see him?" She asked without looking at him, looking out over the coast of their island. "I don't know the story at all, but if you speak it aloud, it might seem less daunting."

"I am not—no," Hanzo corrected himself. "I am afraid. I just don't know what I am afraid  _of_."

"Do you want to tell me about how you know him?"

That was a really long story. "I met him—a very long time ago," he tried. "He was a member of a gang called Deadlock. We were—doing business with them."

Angela nodded. "Jesse was picked up by Blackwatch after they shut Deadlock down. He was one of I think three—maybe four—who surrendered so they might be taken alive, from what I heard. The rest were not so intelligent." 

Hanzo side-eyed her. "That doesn't make sense."

"Why not?"

"Why would your organization recruit a gang member? I had assumed he was  _always_  Overwatch, I just wasn't privvy to that information."

She nodded. "The Commander of Blackwatch had an odd way of doing things. For perhaps fifteen years, Jesse was on a form of house-arrest. He was only allowed off base for missions, and his only possessions were issued equipment. The deal was that he worked for Blackwatch, or he went to prison for life. If he left base, he would be arrested, and he had a tracker attached to his leg that would send out a signal if he went outside his boundaries, or if he tried to remove it."

Hanzo let that sink in for a few minutes. That—he still wasn't sure he trusted this information, he didn't  _want_  to, he was too used to being  _angry_ , but—if it was true, it was.... evil, in his opinion. "Fifteen years? What about the other years?"

"He was promoted to a full agent after that. He was one of Blackwatch's best, until he disappeared."

Hanzo looked at her again, signaling her to continue. "Disappeared?"

"He went on the run. It's been about six years since I've seen him or heard from him."

"Why did he run?"

Angela shrugged. "I wasn't close enough to him to have many theories. I always assumed it was because he never chose to be here to begin with. There were rumors about unrest in Blackwatch in those days, though, so perhaps it was that."

"But he is back now."

"Yes, he's back now." Angela seemed to think about something before asking her next question. "When did you last see him?"

Hanzo wasn't sure exactly how many years it had been. "Before Deadlock was shut down."

"Were you close?"

"...I thought so. Then he disappeared, and... For a while I thought he had died. Then I saw the pictures here...."

"...And you thought maybe he was a spy."

Hanzo nodded. 

"I spoke to him when he arrived. He asked where you were."

"Genji told him, then."

"You should go down and see him."

Hanzo put out his finished cigarette, cast it out into the air to be taken by the sea, and rubbed at his face. "I don't have time for this."

"For what?"

"For—for complications," he searched for words to explain, but it was difficult. "Genji and I, things have been going well, I—I don't have time for these other ghosts."

"Jesse isn't a ghost, Hanzo. Neither is Genji. They are both down there wondering where you are."

"I don't know what to say to him."

Angela gave another smile. "You're a silly man. What about 'hello'?"

Hanzo snorted. "It's not that simple."

"Isn't it?"

Hanzo wondered about that. What if he just walked up to Jesse and said hello? What would Jesse reply? Hanzo didn't know. He couldn't predict how the conversation would go until he initiated it. He wouldn't know how it would go until he tried it. Perhaps it was that simple, then.

"A few more minutes."

 

Jesse really wanted a shower for some reason.

He'd never spent any time in the Gibraltar Watchpoint in the past, but the setting was familiar to any Overwatch base, and part of him felt out of place here. He thought about the last time he was running around somewhere like this—he was younger, probably fitter. Probably cleaner shaven. He felt like he was making the place messy. 

But then other parts felt like home again. He glanced across the kitchen to where Lena was boiling some water, grinning over at him. She'd been so happy to see him, for some reason, but that was Lena, and he'd be lying if he said he wasn't happy to see her, too. She'd thrown her arms around him when she spotted him, eyes watering up a little. He was surprised. 

It was good to see Reinhardt, too. Ever since the loss of his arm, he'd felt a sort of comradery with Reinhardt. The big man never treated him any differently for it, just treated the entire thing with a matter-of-fact attitude that put Jesse at ease. He remembered the holopad loaded with stupid movies he'd been given when he was recovering. Torbjörn hadn't made a big deal out of his arrival at all, but Jesse hadn't expected him to. He was debating with a tall, younger woman about defenses, and had thrown Jesse a quick wink between one of his rants. 

Winston met him warmly, too, and introduced him to Zenyatta and Mei. Jesse had already heard a little about the omnic from Genji, and Mei just exuded something bright and contented from her very being. Jesse decided he liked her.

Angela hadn't changed a bit. She'd hugged him, asked if he was still smoking, and asked when he'd last had his arm checked. He didn't answer either of those questions—she already knew the answers. There was someone very obviously missing, though. 

"Is, uh, is Hanzo on base, or...?"

Winston pushed his glasses further up his nose. "He is—not sure where he is at this exact moment, though."

"He'll show up," Angela commented, pulling out her communicator and tapping at it. "Excuse me, Jesse, I have some equipment to check on— _do_  check in with me later, though."

After all was said and done, Lena insisted on making tea for everyone, and Winston started bringing him up to speed on everything they'd done at the Watchpoint so far. 

"I'd even hazard to say we're almost up and running, you know—well, technically speaking, with regards to the team there's a lot that needs to be done, it's been a long time for some of us and we don't know how well we'll work with each other—you are planning on staying, right?"

Jesse blinked at the sudden question. "Nah, I just called 'round for the tea. 'Course I'm stayin'."

Winston grinned, and Jesse had forgotten how temporarily terrifying that could be. "Just checking."

"Tea's ready!" Lena slammed a tray down in front of them. "No more talking business."

Tea wasn't his thing, but Jesse gratefully reached out for the warm cup. He was tense, still, and the heat would hopefully calm him. The longer he was here without confronting Hanzo, the more he worried about how it would go. 

"Gotta say, s'weird sittin' here again," he mumbled as he sipped at it. 

Genji nodded, sliding into a chair across from him. "I felt the same. Good weird, though."

"We missed you," Lena said, elbowing him gently in the side. 

Jesse grinned over at her, and his heart broke a little, but he wasn't sure why. He just hadn't ever seen himself coming back to this, or being welcomed back. He wasn't sure what he was trying to do, either. Everything was bittersweet. The joy of seeing old friends again was mixed with the dull ache of the faces that were missing—the one's he'd let down. And then there was Hanzo, too, who still hadn't appeared. 

"Missed you too, kid. Really, I did." 

"You look tired, did you come far to get here?"

"Tired? Nah, I'm just old."

Genji breathed out a laugh. "Winston has some interesting old photos in his lab if you want to really feel old."

"Nooo thank you, feelin' it enough already just bein' here." Jesse flipped Genji the bird. "Uh, speakin' of, though, sorta—somewhere I can get cleaned up around here? Kinda wanna wash the last few dingy motels off o' me."

"I could help you get a room set up?" Lena offered.

"Sure—uh, there a razor or some clippers around, too?"

Genji crossed his arms. "Are you worried about your appearance?"

" _You_  shut it," Jesse pointed across the table at him before Lena or one of the others started asking questions he wasn't ready to answer yet. "Just wanna tidy up a bit is all."

"You can use mine, my friend!" Reinhardt called from the window, where Torbjörn's near argument with his friend had died down. 

"Appreciate it," Jesse nodded. He also appreciated the excuse to get some time to himself—nice as it was to see everyone, he just—it was a lot. 

Lena grabbed him by the arm. "Come on, then, love, let's get you settled in."

 

The quarters in Gibraltar were a lot nicer than the one Jesse'd spent years in as part of Blackwatch. They were a lot roomier, and each had its own attached bathroom, which was a luxury he couldn't remember ever having—his  _own_  bathroom. He took his time dragging his clothes out of his bag and onto his bed to separate what was clean before he jumped into the shower. His hair was a mess when he got out, so he pulled it into a damp ponytail rather than deal with it. It really was about time he got his arm checked on, he decided, when his metal digits caught on the hair tie a few times. 

There wasn't much he was gonna be able to do about his face, either, if he was honest. Lena was right, he looked tired, but it was already a little better now that he'd washed up a little. Reinhardt's electric clipper would help with the rest, and that would have to do. 

He examined himself again after he'd tidied up his facial hair. Something about where he was and what he was doing had him seeing every change in himself since the last time he was somewhere like this. More wrinkles—not too many at least, mostly around the eyes and the ones around his mouth were hidden by the hair. More greys. He remembered Angela pointing them out once, years ago. He didn't mind them so much anymore. 

He probably looked like a different person since Hanzo had seen him last. He wondered what Hanzo looked like now. 

He rubbed at his face and moved back into the room to dress himself in a plain grey t-shirt and a pair of black woolen sweatpants. He shoved everything else off the bed and onto the floor to make it easier to throw himself on it instead. 

He lay there staring up at the ceiling wondering what the hell he was doing. 

Making things right by Gabe and Amari? Both of them were dead, wouldn't make a difference to them. Making things right by Overwatch? He didn't have much to offer them, he was more used to the shady jobs, and his shooting needed working on. His stamina probably wasn't what it used to be, either. Making things right by Hanzo? ….That depended on Hanzo, and the idea of it terrified Jesse. 

He was getting old, so was Hanzo by now. It had been about two decades since they'd seen each other last, and—what if Hanzo had long forgotten about it? They hadn't known each other that long, at the time. What if it meant less to Hanzo than it had to Jesse? What if this was all pointless? 

If this was all pointless—Overwatch, Hanzo—then Jesse wasn't sure who or what he was anymore. Maybe he needed to stop putting so much stock in others. 

His own actions were important though, he told himself. Even if it was pointless, the fact that he was here trying to make things right despite his fear had to count for something. If it didn't work out and he didn't know what his purpose was anymore, well—he knew that about himself, at least. He'd tried to do the right thing, and he'd just keep trying to find and do the right thing. Either here, or—somewhere else. 

He really wanted to get meeting Hanzo over and done with. He wanted whatever was going to happen to just  _happen_  already.

 

When Hanzo finally came down from his roof, he found the common areas a lot quieter than he thought they would be. When someone new had arrived before—the day Mei showed up—there'd been loud greetings, a meal, lots of talking. The kitchen was empty, and in the common room he found only Genji and Zenyatta.

Both turned to look at him when he arrived, and Zenyatta immediately rose. "Hello, Hanzo," he waved as he passed. "I will give you some peace." 

Hanzo didn't think of a reply before Zenyatta was gone, and instead he made himself walk over to sit down on the couch next to his brother. 

"You okay?" Genji asked.

Hanzo laughed quietly. "No, but also yes."

"You came down from the roof, at least. I would've gone to check on you, but Jesse probably would've realized where I'd gone and followed."

"Thank you."

"Did you talk with Angela?"

Hanzo nodded, not really wanting to summarize that entire conversation yet. He was just glad to get a few moments with Genji. It was calming. "Where is everyone?"

Genji yawned. "Mostly gone working on the jet. Jesse is in his room."

"Why do you think he is here?"

"He didn't know you were here, if that's what you're asking. As you know, I've had contact with him, but I didn't tell him anything and I didn't urge him to return. It seems he decided on it himself." Genji glanced at him before looking away again. "I'm sorry I didn't warn you. I figured the less time for you to overthink things, the better."

"Mm, you're probably right."

"How badly have you been overthinking it already?"

Hanzo shrugged. "Not enough to have figured out of I would be glad to see him or not, yet. Mostly I feel as if I don't have the time or resource for it." 

"Resource?" Genji pulled a face. "How do you mean?"

"Just that I'm.... tired, I think. It feels like once I started making headway with one thing—" He gestured between the two of them. "—something else has come up, and it feels draining."

Genji seemed to think that over for a few seconds. "It's only draining because you're worrying about it, though." 

"What?"

"Like I said, you overthink things a lot. Things have been going well with us because you haven't had time to do that—things have been going naturally instead, and that's better. The same goes for Jesse. You're better to just confront him and see what happens than to agonize over it." 

That made sense, in theory. "What if I get angry at him?"

"Then get angry. If that's what's going to happen, it's going to happen sooner rather than later. You  _are_  in the same building as him."

Hanzo laughed. "That's true."

"Will I send him a message to let him know you're here?"

"No, it's alright. You've done enough already." Genji really had done  _more_  than enough. Like he'd pointed out so early, he was under no obligation to help Hanzo with Jesse or vice versa, but Hanzo felt that it said something about how far he and his brother had come if Genji was offering anyway. "I'll—go find his room, or—where is his room?"

"Don't go to his room, you'll just panic at being in a space that's his. Go out to the landing pad and have a smoke, I'll send him out." 

"I think I might be smoked out."

"I think once you have a minute to yourself you'll decide you aren't, so take your tobacco anyway." Genji started to pull out his communicator. "Go, and get it over with."

"...Thank you, Genji."

"You're welcome."

Jesse made his way up the sloped transport road toward the landing pad, not moving in any particular hurry. If he was honest, he was taking a lot longer than he physically needed to, but emotionally he didn't feel ready for whatever was about to happen. At the same time, he was somehow more than ready. Twenty years had led up to this moment one way or another, if he thought about it. He made himself useful in Blackwatch so that he could get to this moment someday, and he spent the years after that actively seeking it. Now that it was about to happen, though.... 

He stopped at the corner of a console room. Once he turned the corner—if Hanzo was at the landing pad, Jesse would see him. He wasn't sure if he would be standing in the middle of it—probably not—what if he was downstairs underneath? What if he turned the corner and saw nobody? 

He huffed out a breath. He was starting to get annoyed with himself. He was a big boy. He'd come a long way, and he'd face whatever was there to meet him. 

Before he changed his mind, he started walking again, heart beating fast. At first he didn't see anyone, but then he saw movement—a ribbon blowing in the wind. Off to the left, between the downstairs door and the comm tower, Hanzo was sat with his back to Jesse, facing the water. His hair was tied up high—it was shorter than last time Jesse had seen him. Smoke drifted up around him as he exhaled. 

Jesse walked closer, his steps no longer faltering. He moved forward almost on autopilot now, and hilariously to him, the only thought that occurred to him was to feel slightly self-conscious about showing up in sweatpants. 

Hanzo turned his head as he heard Jesse approaching. 

He looked—darker, than before. His eyes were heavier. His hair was short, grey at the sides. He had a small beard. He looked—amazing. 

"Hello," he said, and Jesse stopped a few feet away. Hanzo didn't move to get up, and Jesse ended up just staring at him for a few seconds before kicking his brain into gear. 

"Uhm—mind if I smoke with ya?"

One corner of Hanzo's mouth tilted upwards. "….I suppose not."

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you to **several wolflets** for beta reading chapters 1 - 4.
> 
> I don't really have an active personal tumblr, but you can follow me and get in touch on **[mchanzo,](http://mchanzo.tumblr.com/)** as I'm a co-mod of that blog. You can also join our McHanzo Discord server **[here](https://discord.gg/ZAJhVEP)** and meet us in the pit, scrubs. (jk, ilu all)
> 
> Update: I also got one of those **[Twitter](http://twitter.com/taibhsemisteire)** things all the cool people have.


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